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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27609026">Guilty pleasures</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComfortingAngel/pseuds/ComfortingAngel'>ComfortingAngel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adam and Eve, Age Play, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Aziraphale has a vulva for a bit, Caring Crowley (Good Omens), Coming In Pants, Coming of Age, Consensual spanking, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley has a vulva for a bit, Doggy Style, Dry Humping, Dry Orgasm, Forbidden Fruit, Inappropriate Erections, Innocent exploration of how everything works, Kink Negotiation, Light Dom/sub, Loss of Innocence, M/M, Masturbation, Nanny Crowley (Good Omens), Naughty Aziraphale (Good Omens), Omorashi, Omovember, Pre-adolescent sexual discovery though in an angel, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Puppy Play, Rape Fantasy, Rape Roleplay, Scene: Garden of Eden (Good Omens), Sexual Experimentation, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Spanking, Sub Aziraphale (Good Omens), Temptation, Tree of Knowledge, Underage Masturbation, Voyeurism, Wet &amp; Messy, Wetting, bed wetting, mild abdl, pillow humping, sexual age play, sexual awakening</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:42:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>40,835</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27609026</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ComfortingAngel/pseuds/ComfortingAngel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>TD;DR charting Aziraphale's sexuality from curious cherub to Crowley's angel from Eden to Present Day.</p><p>Early on, Aziraphale, a very new angel and well-meaning cherub, loves everything in the Garden of Eden very much. He is distracted by the luscious beauty of everything. Fascinated by the biology of the humans and the tasty fruit they get to enjoy, Aziraphale dares to manifest himself matching physiology, complete with a stomach and a penis. But new sensations befuddle him just as a demon attacks the garden, and innocence is quickly lost. Aziraphale is shamed by Heaven and consumed with guilt, but help comes from an unexpected quarter, and a sure bond is set in stone for the angel and the demon forever. </p><p>As time passes, they can no longer ignore what they do to one another.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>115</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Aziraphale is written as an innocent 'childlike' cherub to begin with, who experiences a range of intense and embarrassing bodily functions, pleasures and desires. This happens before he is sent to earth as a principality and issued a proper body. </p><p>Over the next 6000 years he adjusts to life on earth, running a corporation, and sexual appetites may have been informed by those early days in the Garden. This fic features a range of sexual exploration but will include warnings in the chapters.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Aziraphale had tried not to watch Adam and Eve once they started to copulate. But from a science point of view, he felt it was invaluable to at least see how these things were done. All those bits and pieces, swinging, bobbing. And no instruction manual whatsoever. Besides, once they had started, they hadn’t stopped but for brief spells of sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Angels were sexless, and Aziraphale knew that he didn’t need to adopt the exact physiology of either human to understand the biology of sex organs, or simple plumbing. He also knew it was naughty for an angel to want to emulate a human, or creature more base than an angel (quite demonic really). But he told himself he was observing, angelically, and for science, so it was okay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mating was of far less interest than enjoying the crystal clear waters of Eden. Aziraphale had watched the humans quench their thirst, and experience pleasure when consuming strawberries and things. But that's how this whole thing had gotten started. With a little sniff, he thought back to the moment he'd done the wrong thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale had  walked by the stream many times, flaming sword in hand, imagining what it must be like to swallow that water down, especially on a warm day. </span>
  <span>He came to a stop, just where the stream was babbling so very invitingly. Adam had just been there, scooping up handfuls of water with his hand. It was amazing how Adam just knew what to do, Aziraphale had thought. He wished he could be so confident. But despite the knowledge and instructions he'd been given, he felt like he knew next to nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he knew if something was lovely. He looked about nervously for any angels who were supposed to be keeping an eye on him. He’d been trusted with this area of Eden, and was alone. He knew it was considered base, but he could miracle himself a biological form, complete with physiological trimmings, just for a little while. He could. And then he could enjoy a drink of that clear water which reflected the beautiful blue sky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he did it. His wings stretched out in anticipation, then came down like a canopy to create some privacy. He placed the flaming sword down on a large stone, then focused on what he wanted. He gave himself a stomach, with all appropriate connections and relevant internal plumbing. For external plumbing, he decided to go for the ‘male model’ as he wasn’t entirely sure what the ‘female model’ was about. The uterus seemed like a vulnerability, not to mention Eve having a feeding station on her chest. She also seemed to have more difficulty taking care of ‘exiting fluids’ whereas Adam had a convenient attachment which served him well. Overall, Adam’s design appeared more efficient, with only the management of dangly bits and widespread hairy skin to think about.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Aziraphale decided to base himself on Adam, but with smaller testicles (after all he wouldn’t needing those) and soft yellow hairs to match his head of golden curls (though less abundant). He lifted his silky white robe up above his tummy to look. There was the penis - his willy. He hoped it worked. He took it in one hand and felt it to be sure it was connected. It was, and it felt warm, malleable and friendly, with all the correct features. It wasn’t supposed to be big - just fit for purpose and tidy enough under his robes that it would go unnoticed, in case another angel was checking. He hoped Gabriel didn’t have X-ray vision, if he happened to appear out of nowhere and see Aziraphale. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So the angel Aziraphale had some human biology for a bit, and this was going to be fun. He giggled, and knelt down by the stream he’d been gazing at. He dipped his fingers in and created a cup with his hand, just as Adam had. The water was very cold, but the moment it touched his tongue he wanted more and more. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>thirsty</span>
  </em>
  <span>, though he’d never been thirsty before. Now he knew what it meant. For several minutes he slurped and gulped until he felt a slightly uncomfortable flutter in his belly. He decided to allow his body to get used to everything, and went and sat on the wall to while away the rest of the afternoon in the warm sun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was about the time he should have been guarding the apple tree, but Aziraphale felt that he completely trusted the humans, and completely trusted the tree, and was having such a nice time that nothing bad could happen, and everything was lovely. So he swung his legs happily, enjoying the last of the sun on his face and the tips of his feathers before dusk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a beautiful sunset, and Aziraphale wanted to enjoy being alive-ish and having gotten away with his creative science project, so when he started to feel antsy, he ignored it. His feet were wanting to tap. There was a strange swelling tension he’d never felt before, but the sun was doing that thing where it actually goes a crimson red, and he didn’t want to miss that. He shifted a bit and signed deeply. The tension ebbed away to a tremendous relief. He assumed this was pure happiness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t believe the pleasure available with human biology. Relaxation spread all over him. His tummy, his thighs, his willy. It was hot and nice. Even the wall became very warm indeed underneath his bottom. </span>
  <span>This was when Aziraphale realised he had wet himself. He gasped and looked down to see a wet stain on his robe where it rested on his thighs. He quickly stood up on the wall. There was a puddle. Another gasp, and he craned his neck to look at his bottom. There was a large wet patch. He’d made a </span>
  <em>
    <span>puddle</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t thought to check the process on the whole exiting-fluids thing. Oops. Out of the corner of his eye, the red sun faded then plopped out of view completely, and Aziraphale wrapped his wings around himself to conceal his accident, and dashed to the cover of some trees nearby the stream. He pulled off his robes and looked at the damage. It seemed strange given he’d consumed cold, clear water, that he’d produced something warm and not very clear at all. He realised he hadn’t studied Adam all that much. Why did he assume he would know what to do. Oh, he’d been a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad angel</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His breath quickened. He was now very scared. He’d spoilt his angelic robe with human bodily fluids whilst doing something he shouldn’t have been doing. He thought heard a hissing laugh from within the bushes, but it was surely just his guilty conscience whispering to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He acted quickly, and jumped into the cold stream with his robe in his hands. No one would know now! Haha! It was however, very cold, so he quickly got back out, miracled himself and his robe dry and extra white (he hadn’t been quite sure how to safely miracle away the fluid without it potentially ending up somewhere random) and found himself smoothing out his robes as night fell on the garden. He exhaled. He’d gotten away with it. He’d never be naughty again. Never. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was just about to remove the human biology from himself when there was a cry. </span>
  <span>He froze. The cry was the sound of Eve. Another noise sounded like Adam. They both sounded like they were 100ft away, but being awfully loud. Shouting or something. And this was in the direction of the apple tree. The apple tree that Aziraphale was supposed to be watching. </span>
  <span>He ran, discovering that running with a penis is a comical affair and that perhaps he should re-evaluate the alternative, and after a clumsy, undignified sprint arrived at a clearing. He couldn't fully take in what he was seeing at first, but then he understood. In the centre of the clearing, Adam and Eve were </span>
  <em>
    <span>mating</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the worst moment of Aziraphale’s existence. They were not supposed to be doing that. Why would they do that? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop it!” he said simply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They didn’t respond, possibly because they were moaning and crying so loudly they hadn’t heard him, and they definitely hadn’t see him. To Aziraphale, they were more like the beasts that God had described to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale, angel of the eastern gate, had broken God’s project. He’d be in such big trouble now. Likely to be shouted out and punished severely. He realised it might even be so serious he would have his bottom smacked. The cherubs spoke of this often, as the ultimate discipline for naughty angels and spirits who have been cheeky and disobedient, or stolen strawberries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>dear</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he whimpered. And this was worse. Definitely a smacked bottom, then. And what comes after a smacked bottom? He gasped in horror. What if he was sent away? What if he was sent… below? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was panicking now. He rubbed his sweating palms on his robe and wished he hadn’t done any of the things he’d done that day. His eyes fell on a mostly eaten apple lying on the ground, and he whimpered. He was going to taste some fruit and even sleep under the jasmine today, but he’d messed everything up, and now he’d never taste… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What? An apple? From the apple tree? He dashed over to the tree. There was one particularly naked branch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But this is forbidden!” he exclaimed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he understood even more. The forbidden fruit had opened a gate to hell. And they were all going to be sucked through it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He started to cry, just as the copulation next to him became increasingly frenetic, then orgasmic (which Aziraphale had been taught probably meant babies), then quiet. He was going to have a word with them now. Bad humans! He’d trusted them to be good and read signs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stomped over, but the respite was short-lived. The grinding began again, Adam’s penis was all pointy, and then it was going in and out of Eve at considerable speed. She didn’t seem to mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale felt his face heat up, and a now familiar tension spread in his nether regions. For a moment thought he was going to wet himself again, and he quickly squeezed the tip of the penis through his robe to stop it from doing anything. He also crossed his legs, though he wasn’t sure why. Happily it all seemed secure and unlikely to leak, but a part of him felt it would be better to distance himself from the wild scene beside him, as it appeared to be having a dark magic sort of effect on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He backed away, wanting to cry. He’d really made a mess of everything. He’d better miracle all this biology away - it was hard to be an angel with so many sensations and activities to navigate. And if the other angels came here now, there would be hell to pay. And that probably wouldn’t even be a pun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sniffed as a tear rolled down his cheek. This time, he didn’t dismiss the hissing laugh. He spun around, and there was a serpent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You!” shouted Aziraphale. He knew that snake. Some sort of demon that occasionally popped up to taunt him and the other angels. No one took him that seriously. More of a nuisance and an attention seeker. The angels had all been told to ‘just ignore him’, or report and block, or something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The serpent opened its jaw very wide, as if it had just told a very silly joke and was waiting for the whole room to get it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You made them do this!” shrieked Aziraphale, over the sound of pleasured grunting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another hissing laugh. “I can’t make anyone do anything,” said the serpent, still sporting what looked like a fabulous grin of success. “I can only make suggestions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale was now very cross. It had been one hell of day when all he was trying to do was have a nice day, and yes, he’d been naughty to stop watching the tree and to drink the water, but it could just have easily been fine, and now this stupid snake had ruined everything. He stepped forward with his hand raised, intending to give the snake’s snoot a smack. </span>
  <span>The snake, it seemed, was not unused to such gestures, and quickly got out of there, though the grin vanished just before he did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So now, Aziraphale was alone with two sinning humans, and no evidence, and no story. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was going to have to lie. No! He shouldn’t lie. Lying was bad. But the thing was, if he didn’t lie, it would be very bad indeed for him. How could he tell Gabriel, or even God if it went that high up, that he’d allowed a serpent to get that close to Adam and Eve, or Adam and Eve to get that close to the tree?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would have to lie about at least one of those things. And he definitely wouldn’t tell them what he’d been doing instead of guarding the tree. And he really ought to miracle away his human biology…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aziraphale?!” came Gabriel’s booming voice. There was panic and anger. It was too late. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Gabriel,” said Aziraphale, thinking on his feet. “The humans have been very bad indeed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The purple-eyed archangel glared at the tubby blond. “No shit, Aziraphale. They’re not supposed to be anything like this aware.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His face twisted in disgust as Adam and Eve continued their frenzied mating. Other angels were now appearing and assessing the situation, tentatively surrounding the couple. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel was fuming. “They’re not supposed to want to do that. How do they even know? That’s knowledge they’re not supposed to have!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well,” Aziraphale stammered, his mouth feeling terribly dry, and the image of the stream came into his head again. “It is always going to be a risk if you put a tree of knowledge in the middle of a garden.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you say?” asked Gabriel, his tone raised, hands on his hips. Aziraphale backed away, and this time he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> he was going to wet himself again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The archangel glowered. “Did you just question the Almighty? Her ineffable plan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” squeaked Aziraphale. “Of course not, I just mean, risk assessment wise…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were supposed to be watching them, Aziraphale.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Gabriel,” said Aziraphale timidly. He hung his head. He felt tears on his cheek, and sense the archangel getting closer like a looming dark cloud. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what happened?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew he mustn't lie. But he couldn’t tell the truth either. So how about only a bit of a lie? His thought process was made redundant as he heard himself stammer out an explanation that he hoped would make sense by the time he’d finished talking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, technically, I was on apple tree duty, so I couldn’t supervise them,” he said, leaving out the part where he hadn’t been supervising the tree either. “And then they came to the tree, and they were very intent, and…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He squirmed, but out came the words. “Adam held me down while Eve stole an apple, and I couldn’t do anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel was frowning, but appeared to be believing Aziraphale, who continued. “I even tried to fight him, you see, by matching his human strength with a miracle that made me more physical like him, as you see.” </span>
  <span>He held up his robe to show off his adorned physiology. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel looked fairly disgusted, then perplexed. “You’re an angel, Aziraphale. The humans are no match for you. You even have a flaming sword. Where is that, by the way?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale dropped his robe. “I put it down.” he explained. “I worry I’ll set fire to the tree, you see, and I didn’t want to harm the humans with it. It’s only for vanquishing demons, and there were definitely none of those here today or I would have seen them and stopped them, obviously.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The violet eyes narrowed suspiciously. “This should not have happened,” Gabriel scolded steadily. He winced at the unmistakable sound of another joint sexual climax behind them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale tried to look innocent, giving his blue eyes a little extra shine for good measure. “I don’t know why they did,” he said. “They were on their best behaviour until now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you didn’t see anything, I don’t know, evil, interfering, or tempting..?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?” answered Aziraphale, with more upward inflection than he’d like. Something hot and wet was running down his inner leg. He very much hoped that his robe would conceal it. He also very much hoped that Adam and Eve wouldn’t tell their side of the story any time soon. He squirmed again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think you’re telling me the whole truth, Aziraphale,” said Gabriel, holding his hands behind his back, which to him felt like a thoughtful, authoritative posture. “Something doesn’t add up. I think you got distracted and you’re scared you’re going to be in trouble. I know you’ve told me some fibs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale’s lower lip wobbled. His wings slumped and he started to cry. He’d have to confess. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“However,” said Gabriel softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “I also think something evil happened here that wasn’t your fault.” He stepped closer to Aziraphale, whose eyes widened in surprise. “But you’re in trouble with me, and you’re going to face reassignment, at best. Playing with human physiology is beneath us, Aziraphale. It’s gross. Perhaps you’d like to walk the earth in the style of a mortal, watching the chaos you helped create today? Because I’ll be seeing what strings I can pull to get into a more suitable position.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale whimpered and sniffed. He felt wretched. Just when he thought Gabriel was done with him, the archangel landed a stinging swat on Aziraphale’s bottom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And let that be a lesson to you for not protecting the garden with due care and attention!” It was a very theatrical smack and a very theatrical shout, but Aziraphale was too upset to figure out why on earth Gabriel would to be so demonstrative to the other angels that it was Aziraphale’s fault, when it was surely very obvious that it was Aziraphale’s fault. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The angels gathered in the clearing having successfully separated the humans into two separate, satisfied, snoring heaps. Gabriel commanded their attention. “Well, what’s done is done. It seems some great evil was done here, and the humans have sinned spectacularly, while </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> on our team wasn’t looking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some of the angels smirked at poor Aziraphale, who was rubbing his bottom pitifully, and longing for another dip in the stream.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel continued. “This means war with the other side, and some of us will have new duties. For now, we will leave the humans to continue on their course. I’m not sure how God is going to take this or what She’ll decree, but you should be ready to leave the garden in the coming days. Until then, it’s business as usual. Aziraphale, try to carry out your duties until then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale nodded miserably.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And no idle miracles!” warned Gabriel. “I’ll know if you do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The others meandered away. The humans were still sleeping. Sniffing in the light of the moon, the tubby angel padded back to the stream. He wanted to be sexless again - he kept getting wet, but he was forbidden to miracle it away. And he’d been caught lying to the archangel Gabriel. And he’d had his bottom smacked, albeit just once. And God didn’t even know about this yet. Or did She? Would She be angry with him? He considered that this might mean he could even get away with lying to Her, but then he felt very guilty indeed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slipped into the cool water, which felt nice and soothed his legs where he’d been unable yet again to judge his biological needs and timings. He was up to his waist in the water, but submerged in shame. He sobbed. He was a terrible angel. He wished Gabriel had punished him properly, harshly, in front of the entire universe. He wished he’d caught that stupid snake and blamed him instead of the humans. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It became much cooler and darker, and the flaming sword, still flaming like anything, glowed fearfully in the night. Aziraphale eventually pulled himself out of the water, then curled up by the sword to keep warm and dry and tried not to think about what God would do to him when She found out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That following sunrise, the garden seemed different, and Aziraphale was trying very hard not to think about how much he’d broken it. Or himself. He had however learned how (and when) to wee without getting it on himself, which he was happy about. Adam had made it look so easy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speaking of Adam, Aziraphale nervously went in search of the male human who had inspired him a little too much. He had hoped Adam wouldn’t be copulating with Eve, but alas, he stumbled upon another intense, if slower, lovemaking session. </span>
  <span>Lovemaking, he remembered, was the term the angels had used for mating humans. This looked a lot more like that. Adam was on top of Eve, and she was holding him as close as possible, and sighing sweetly. Their touch was feverish but tender, and they were moaning each other’s names. It was less animal like than the day before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale tried not to stare, but they were oblivious, and he was intrigued. After all, he was partly responsible for this and should probably learn all there was to know about it. He was puzzled, though. All that was required was for Adam to eject sperm into Eve, and surely she’d then be expecting, and the job was done. Sex was for procreation, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knelt down for a better view of where Adam and Eve were connecting - where the penis had entered, and he peered. They were so animated, he couldn’t really see anything. He tutted. He had no idea it took so much time, so much physique, and so many attempts to procreate. Maybe things weren’t working properly. But they were so in sync, and Eve appeared just as invested. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love,” thought Aziraphale, and he beamed. Maybe they just love it and want lots of children. He thought that was rather sweet, but now came the bit where they got faster and faster. Aziraphale could see some of the shaft of Adam’s penis, and he stared in awe. Yes, it was definitely in there. All of it. He wondered how that must feel for Eve. Did it not hurt? Why did Adam keep pulling it back out a bit? Surely it should stay in there to do its job properly?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Adam arched, still thrusting, forearms powerfully sustaining him as Eve pulled her legs up. Now Aziraphale had quite the view, but he was more interested in Adam’s face. That amount of bliss and pleasure… well. That can’t be good, thought Aziraphale. The power in it. He shivered, wings quivering, as he considered Adam could do that to him, or anyone really. It wasn’t frightening. It was majestic. And he gasped when he remembered he had one of those things, though he hadn’t gone to the effort of manifesting one for the purposes of mating (the very idea!). But could he, Aziraphale, an angel of Eden ever do that? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pressed his hand to his robe to check on his secret willy. It felt firm, and pressing against it made him feel very strange. It was doing what Adam’s was doing. He had clearly released an evil energy throughout the garden with his naughtiness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh dear!” he muttered.  He backed away and stood behind a tree, feeling the need to examine himself. He tugged up his robe and saw his penis was a little bigger and pointing up and out insistently like Adam’s. “I didn’t mean to,” he squeaked to himself. He tried to point it back downwards, but it wouldn’t go, and the more he touched it the more it became difficult to think. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A cry from Eve startled him and he dropped his robe and got closer behind the tree. Aziraphale winced. The sounds of their bodies and their strained voices were becoming wild again. But he blinked. For a few exhilarating moments, it was as if the two humans became one glorious beast. The angel heard himself moan in response, and he felt his penis brushed against the tree. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He almost fainted. What just happened? Then it happened again. Whatever had he started? He squeezed it to stop it. That didn’t help either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whatever it was, he had to ignore it for now. He wanted to see the </span>
  <em>
    <span>moment</span>
  </em>
  <span> between the humans. The moment that meant life. His hips could do what they wanted - he was busy learning. So he continued lightly humping the tree trunk while watching the thing he knew he shouldn’t be watching. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The human joining transfixed him. Their cries went through him. Their faces contorted in ecstasy and they suddenly slowed. Aziraphale watched obsessively, dimly aware he was rubbing himself harder against the tree bark as he did. It was beautiful to watch them slow down. It was like everything relaxed, and both were breathing very hard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Life,” thought Aziraphale. “It’s a good thing, surely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched as Adam started to withdraw, a white sticky fluid coming with the softening penis. </span>
  <span>Aziraphale gasped. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> he shouldn’t be looking at that. That was definitely very private. He’d been told there were things he didn’t need to know - he was just a sweet, playful cherub and should do his homework and do as he was told and be a good angel. </span>
  <span>But Eve was lying there, legs akimbo. He was staring into her - where Adam had been with his penis, where Aziraphale could go with </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> penis. Where new life would come from - and it felt dark and deadly and forbidden. But also quite tempting, if he was honest. It felt very much like his hardened willy was pointing exactly in that direction. He imagined lying on top of her like Adam, and…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something ungodly took him over. Demonic possession, he assumed as he gripped the tree against his will, dragging his pointy penis against the hardness of it, trying to be silent as his hips jerked. His wings flew back rigid. A tickling sensation flooded his body. His knees weakened. He thought he was going to wee. But whatever was happening felt too good to stop, so with a little cry he surrendered to it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the best thing he’d felt yet. He didn’t care what happened to him for a good few seconds. He was willing to die at that point. He didn’t even know where he was. But eventually he was able to think again. He opened his eyes. Adam and Eve were relaxing on the grass and smiling at each other. Aziraphale pulled back from the tree to a little damp spot on the front of his robe. Oopsie. But he was relieved he hadn’t wet himself. Not only that - his penis had stopped pointing and was going back down. There wasn’t even any of that white stuff on him. But he still knew he’d done something bad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now they were all evil, and he was evil, and he would be in big, terrible trouble - the type that’s worse than a smacked bottom. He ran to the stream, and still wearing his robe, jumped in. </span>
  <span>The water felt very cold. He stayed in it, up to his waist again but wings kept out and dry, and tried to wring out his robe and wash away the damp spot he’d made. He pouted. He hadn’t meant to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shivered. He did a little wee - he thought he might as well while he was there and it seemed rather insistent suddenly. It felt like a small hot cloud growing in the icy stream, until the current dashed it away. Good and evil, he considered. He stayed in there, teeth chattering, as a sort of punishment he supposed, wondering what life would be like as a demon. A sex demon. A penis demon. A wee willy winky demon. He thought again about ridding himself of his physiology, his biology experiment, but he was ever so nervous that Gabriel would know. After all, it was hardly work related, and he should have thought it through before doing it in the first place.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he could take the chill of the water no longer, he got out, and checked his robe for signs of sin. He couldn’t see anything. He’d gotten away with it. He sighed with relief, then immediately found himself thinking about what he could secretly rub against next. He shook his head and scolded himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are an angel. Act like one,” he said very seriously. </span>
  <span>He took a deep breath, and decided that the most important thing for him to do was to fetch his flaming sword and patrol the perimeters for any signs of that wily serpent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was when he was in full stride when there was a terrible booming crack, and God’s voice echoed throughout Eden, striking terror into the angel’s heart. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Someone's in trouble - this chapter contains mild spanking and sexual curiosity.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“You are expelled,” was the word of God. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale knew he was never going to stop crying. Not ever. He was expelled. It was over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the voice boomed again, and this time the earth shook, which Aziraphale thought was a nice touch, even though his existence was over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Behold, Adam. Behold, Eve. I cast you out.” </span>
</p><p>The baby blue eyes widened. <span>She was expelling Adam and Eve! And it was all his fault. He’d lied about Adam attacking an angel and now they were the ones getting expelled when it should have been him. What should he do? He’d have to tell Her the truth. </span></p><p>
  <span>He ran to the humans, who bizarrely had fashioned some sort of clothing from fig leaves. Of course. They knew shame now, which meant feeling bad about your wobbly bits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By nightfall,” came the voice of God once more. “You will be gone. Banished from my garden for your sins. This you will have to live with, forever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The humans held each other, as Aziraphale watched them helplessly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so dreadfully sorry,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They looked at him a little baffled, as if they couldn’t see how he’d had anything to do with it. As if they could hardly even see him. Eve was crying silently, and Adam was comforting her. He led her away to their favourite nook. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale looked about frantically. “Lord!?” he called. There was no answer, but he sensed She was still there. “Lord? It’s my fault! Punish me.” But his voice was small and quiet on those last two words. It was more of a croak. He didn’t really want to be punished. And maybe God could just create some nice, new humans who didn’t listen to wicked snakes, and Aziraphale would be allowed to play in the stream and eat the strawberries. He wrung his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bit his lip, and went to his flaming sword. He picked it up. If She was watching, She’d see him looking busy. And not, you know, doing sex with a tree or watching naughty things or performing miracles that weren’t work related. Yes, he could be a good angel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aziraphale, angel of the eastern gate.”</span>
</p><p>He almost leapt out of his skin. <span>“Yes lord?” he answered, dropping the sword as she’d given him quite a start, and wishing like hell he hadn’t said anything. His hand dashed in front of his crotch guiltily.  </span></p><p>
  <span>“My cherubs do not go unpunished for dereliction of duty,” She said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Uh oh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean to, Lord!” he cried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he was lifted, somehow, into the air. He panicked that She was going to throw him into a fiery pit, because surely She knew everything, but instead he was carried gently like a puppy by the scruff of the neck, and deposited softly face down on a grassy mound as if draped headfirst over a barrel. He felt his robe lift up at the back, a cool breeze wafting across his skin, before something smacked him on the bottom. It felt like a large, warm hand - the palm and fingers flatly swatting him. He kicked his legs out, but couldn’t move. It was as if he were fastened to the grassy mound - even his wings felt heavy. And that warm hand came down again, and again, and again, spanking his bottom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I expect you to pay better attention, Aziraphale,” the rich voice scolded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cried out, having feared this for as long as he could remember. After all he was a good angel, usually, and he’d done his best, mostly, and angels like him shouldn’t end up having their bottoms smacked like common little demons. Also it hurt a bit. He snuffled into the grass, but he did appreciate that it was grass and not hellfire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When it stopped, he felt the pressure against him leave, and he was free to stand up. He pouted at the sky and moved his hands to his smarting bottom - the heat came right through his robe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then an enormous, disembodied forefinger pointed at him. “Fetch your flaming sword and return to duty.” Her voice held considerable threat, he thought. But she’d said nothing of his lewd behaviour. So she didn’t know. She only knew what Gabriel told her. Or was it a bluff. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air became light and the finger shimmied and faded into the sky. Aziraphale did exactly what he was told, and assumed his position on the wall, with his flaming sword. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t noticed the snake in the bushes. The snake wasn’t hissing or laughing this time. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale was still pouting. He was frightened. There were too many possibilities and temptations, and why would God put that stupid tree there anyway? He wiggled guiltily, still not too sure that God couldn’t hear his thoughts. But truly, a lot had happened, and he was only exploring, and it wasn’t his fault that serpent had turned up. He tried not to remember that if he hadn’t been shirking from his job, he might have been able to thwart the serpent with his flaming sword and maybe stop this whole thing from happening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at the flaming sword. It always seemed a little dramatic for a creature of love, he thought. And what was the use of it now? He’d failed, the humans were being kicked out, and not much mattered anymore. Feeling miserable and quite grumpy about being smacked twice, he watched Adam and Eve as they prepared to leave. It would be dark soon. What was going to happen to them? If only he could be a guiding light for them!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s when he had the idea. He’d give them the sword. Yes! That was the right thing to do, and surely what God would want him to do. He’d be a good angel and protect his humans. He’d never be naughty again, and as soon as he got a free moment he’d become nice and sexless again. He’d be forgiven and loved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It all made perfect sense, until he was watching Adam and Eve make their way across the endless desert with his sword. It suddenly seemed like that wasn’t something that should have left the garden. He wrung his hands - something he was doing a lot by now, pretty sure he was doomed. To prove it, the dark twisting shape of the wily serpent appeared to his left, so he’d clearly come to get him and drag him down to Hell. This is when Aziraphale knew he should have struck with the flaming sword, but he’d been silly and given it away, and now he’d be led to damnation by this dark, slithering minion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the snake morphed into something quite lovely. Human form, with white skin, impressive bone structure, and soulful, if evil, eyes. Ebony wings and hair the colour of strawberries. The demon had that same crackling energy as Adam, but also that flowing power of Eve, all at once. Aziraphale looked the demon up and down and realised there must be lots of combinations of effort, spirit, intention. It was reassuring. Perhaps this meant Aziraphale wasn’t a condemned angel because he had other traits. Nonetheless, anxiety pounded in his veins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well that went down like a lead balloon,” said the demon.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The conversation with the snake, or Crawley, had made him feel better. It was as if Crawley understood how unfair it was to be expected to be perfect, or set up to fail. </span>
  <span>However, the events of the day were still with Aziraphale. He was trying very hard to keep busy and not think about his experience that morning with the tree, and seeing sinful things. He walked around and around the garden, trying harder and harder to ignore the memory, but whined in frustration when he felt his penis going pointy again. He had no idea the thing would be such a liability. He cupped it through his robe and hid behind a tree, his shame giving way to a thudding, foggy yearning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crawley had watched Aziraphale pace for hours from his happy place in the bushes. The distracted cherub seemed uncomfortable and distressed. Crawley wondered if it was because he'd gotten into trouble for what he'd done as a demon. He was only doing his job. But he took no pleasure in seeing this rather amenable angel punished. He couldn't help but wonder what this little angel might become. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched Aziraphale fidget as he sat on the banks of the stream, his legs in the water. The white silky robe was bunched up in his lap to avoid it getting wet and Aziraphale was holding the material to himself as if it were a comfort blanket. But when Crawley carefully got closer, he could see the angel was pressing the bunched up robe to himself quite hard, moving subtly against it, and breathing raggedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon grinned. This angel had seen a thing or two and now knew how to pleasure himself. Or perhaps he was just finding out. Or the humans had taught him a thing or two. He peered closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale had stopped and was looking under his robe. He sighed with frustration. He leaned forward, dipped a good deal of the robe in the icy stream, and bunched it up around his genitals again. It soothed his hot and aching organ, and provided some relief. But he immediately rolled onto the grass, face down, hands underneath and holding the robe to his crotch, and started to hump the wet material frantically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crawley watched with wonder. What a naughty cherub this was, humping like a puppy. Hopelessly innocent, of course. But it appeared that Heaven hadn’t quite succeeded in indoctrinating this one. He was following pure instinct - instincts a sexless angel wasn’t supposed to have.  </span>
  <span>A succession of helpless whimpers and a grunt accompanied what was clearly a very welcome orgasm, and the angel kept very deliberately rolling his hips against the available friction until every bit of sensation had worked its way through him. Eventually his wings stopped trembling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale was breathing hard. He hadn’t meant to do it, but he didn’t know how else to get his willy back to normal and it was distracting him. He rolled over and inspected his robe. It was clean, just wet from the water. But the damn thing wasn't going down. Everything felt too good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crawley could just make out the red face, apparently confused about what was supposed to be happening here. Poor angel, thought the demon. Aziraphale was not the first cherub to adopt human parts and masturbate of course, but Crawley doubted he’d been made aware of this. </span>
  <span>He was just thinking of going over there to have a little chat and perhaps explain a thing or two to Aziraphale, when the angel rolled back on his front and the spasmodic movements resumed. He was going at it again, complete with rather adorable, needy sighs and gasps. Crawley knew it was time to leave the cherub to his needs… but Crawley was also a demon. So he miracled some pomegranate seeds for a snack and sat back to watch the humping marathon, curious to see what the angel would discover. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon eventually fell into a good sleep after the fourth time Aziraphale appeared to orgasm, but he occasionally woke up to hear telltale moans signifying more stimulation and further climaxes. Crawley fell back to sleep wondering if they were wet yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the sun rose on Eden, it was warm. </span>
  <span>Aziraphale was naked and waiting for his robe to dry. He’d given it, and himself, a proper wash. The sun had come up as he was resting on his back and stroking his tired willy, to reveal significant grass stains on his robe, which is when Aziraphale finally stopped abusing himself. The wash was very cathartic, but he had to resort to a quick miracle in the end as the green streaks appeared devilishly stubborn. His penis was now behaving itself, hanging obediently, albeit rather red. It had felt better when he got into the icy-cool of the river. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was now muttering a promise to himself to stop doing sex. It didn’t seem like sex, but he knew it was related. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crawley was still in the bushes, though he’d been awake for some time. He’d woken up to see Aziraphale’s naked bottom. It looked tasty and squeezable, like a peach. Even a little bit smackable. He was enjoying watching it wobble about. There was something about this angel. It seemed almost cruel to put such a naive creature into such an environment. But then Heaven needed angels who didn't ask too many questions. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale was shimmying into his robe when Gabriel made a surprise appearance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have your new assignment, Aziraphale,” he explained, handing the cherub an envelope. “You’re a principality now. A field agent.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale gasped. “I am?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, any moment. Time to grow up. Take responsibility. Hopefully you can turn over a new leaf and do good work among the humans. We’ll need to know how they’re getting on, and we’ll have work to do to stop them from sinning - guide them towards the light. You’ll be reporting direct to me. All the details are in there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” said Aziraphale, wanting to peek into the envelope to learn everything but guessing he should wait. “So I’m going to leave the garden?” He’d made a complete hash of it, but he’d miss it terribly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gabriel smiled a half-smile. “You can have some time to say goodbye,” he said, with an uncommon kindness. “I know you like it here. But you like it a little too much, don’t you?” he said sternly, as if chiding a small child who’d eaten too much chocolate. “But you’re allowed to enjoy the fruit. Take the day off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, thank you!” exclaimed Aziraphale, trying not to feel guilty about the strawberry he’d pinched that morning. He would have a feast now. Without feeling guilty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, and I can now issue you a body.” Gabriel pulled some kind of clicker device out of his pocket, pressed it, and Aziraphale felt himself fully incorporate. It was like having a suit of armour. He felt strong and tall, even though he was exactly the same height. He stood proudly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This body matches adult human specifications. You can turn certain features on or off to suit, but it’s imperative no one knows you’re an angel, so keep those wings hidden. This is deep undercover. Understood?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Gabriel,” said Aziraphale brightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Good luck. You can take your time to say goodbye to the garden.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>Gabriel walked away and into thin air. Aziraphale twiddled his ankles, gave a little jump, coughed and felt for his hair. <span>It looked exactly the same, even the genitals he’d given himself,</span> he just felt like he'd grown into it. <span>He experimented with fading his wings in and out of dimensions, which he did like. He was clearer about some things now. Perhaps it was having a purpose, even though he suspected it was a punishment, but he could choose to believe it was a promotion. But he could start over. He had less shame, now. He might even be able to forget he’d lied to God about where the flaming sword was. </span></p><p>
  <span>He felt light and free, and began making small reparations to broken bits of the gate and the wall before deciding he could have a reward now. </span>
  <span>He drank the clear water, ate a lot of strawberries, and lay in the sun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was 90 minutes before he wondered if it would feel the same to rub himself on something. He crept into a sheltered part of the garden in case anyone should appear, and squeezed himself through his robes. It still worked! He watched his penis rise up, nudging out the white material, ready to act. He glanced about cautiously, then clasped the shaft through the robe, sat down, and began to stroke. He now understood why Adam moved back and forth, of course. That’s how you activate it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>However, it was not cooperating. It wasn't enjoying it. It wasn't going down either. Aziraphale was crestfallen. It had been a very short-lived experience and now he'd broken it, and on his last 24 hours in the garden when he could have really enjoyed himself. It was also feeling a little sore, so he glumly climbed back into the cool stream. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was pouting at nothing in particular when Crawley, man-shaped, slipped into the stream too. He'd done it gracefully and artfully, revealing nothing. Aziraphale stayed very still. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hello," said Crawley.</span>
</p><p>"Hello," said Aziraphale. </p><p>"How's that physiology working out for you?"</p><p>"I don't know what you mean!" said the angel very quickly.</p><p>"Now, now, no fibs," scolded the demon, fairly amused. "I saw. I know what you did. That was very naughty."</p><p>Aziraphale looked like he was going to cry.</p><p>Crawley leaned in conspiratorially. "It's also something every single angel does, Aziraphale," he said gentle. "Every single one. Totally normal. Totally healthy."</p><p>"It can't be," said the angel, trying to appear knowledgable. </p><p>"It is. They just don't like talking about it. Trust me. Nothing to be ashamed of."</p><p>"Well, you would say that. You're a demon."</p><p>"Yeah, well I've been around a bit longer than you. Happy to answer any questions."</p><p>Aziraphale tried to conceal the fact he was desperate to ask questions. </p><p>"Well," he began. "Is it possible to... break it?" </p><p>Crawley grinned. "No," he answered kindly. "But it does benefit from rest. Also, it doesn't like pressure - mental pressure, I mean. <span>Sometimes the more you want it, the more it eludes you, like when you know you’re about to sneeze and then it refuses to happen. You have to do something else for a bit."</span></p><p>
  <span>"Oh," said Aziraphale, immensely relieved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was another long silence, until he plucked up the courage for another question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So angels do... they do what Adam and Eve did? Or a different kind of thing?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon thought he should tread carefully here. "When two, or more, beings love each other very much, they can do whatever the two of them feel like doing. Including what Adam and Eve did."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh," said Aziraphale again. No one had told him that. But he did have to be careful. He was having a bath with a demon after all, who was likely lying. "Well, thank you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Any time," said Crawley, who deftly withdrew from the water just as he'd entered it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crafty, thought Aziraphale, happy to stay in his favourite place for as long as the day would allow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crawley slunk into the trees and hoped no one had overheard him being kind to an angel. But then again, he was helping an angel learn to get off, so surely it was all in the line of duty. Plus he'd also been enjoying the fruit and the water. It was like sneaking into spa. But there were ramifications for indulgence. </span>
  <span>He hoisted up his robe and started to have a wee behind a tree. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unmistakable pattering caught the angel's attention, and his breath caught as his eyes fell on Crawley. This felt </span>
  <span>private and naughty. Nevertheless, he shifted in the water to get a better look, He stared and stared, and tried to see the demon’s penis. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No such luck. Crawley was urinating for some time, and apparently enjoying the relief that brings. While Aziraphale blushed, he</span>
  <span> thought about demons and the choices they make. He was sure they must behave like animals all the time. Pleasure-driven beasts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale became aware that his breathing was shallow and his hand was wrapped around his engorged penis under the water. He was delighted, but he tried to be casual about it in case his penis decided to play games with him. He thought again about how demons live. Beasts. Indulgent beasts who probably have lots of sex with each other. His eyes became cloudy, his hand moved quicker. It was making the water swish and lap loudly, but he was past caring. Above him, Crawley had snaked onto a branch and was watching intently - a clear view down into the water afforded a very graphic show. It seemed the angel's penis was happy to participate now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Indeed, much to Aziraphale's joy, the pleasure was not only available but building fast. In his mind, a room full of snakey demons were entwined and throbbing, rutting in and out of each other and coming with all the white stuff. Messy and raw and sinful, and very, very, wet. He threw his head back as it all took over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From above, Crawley watched a jet of white sperm shoot into the water, and he grinned with delight, before decided he should get out of there. His little cherub was growing up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a moment before Aziraphale realised though. He had felt something hot spurt out and assumed he'd done a little wee, but once he got his senses back, including his vision, he saw something new floating on the water. The white stuff. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gasped, and jumped out. The current was starting to take it, as it had all of his sins, but it was there. Was it his new body, or the cold water, or the day of pleasures, or his terrible naughty thoughts? He scrambled on the bank for his robe and put it on. Once the panic passed, he realised it was probably all okay. And, obviously, if he was going to understand what was happening he’d have to keep repeating the experiment. It was science, after all. He smiled to himself. Then went to look for Crawley. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do <em>demons</em> have sex?” he asked abruptly, near the nectarines. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t mate, angel, if that’s what you mean,” answered Crowley indifferently. He was examining some red grapes, as he was sure they’d make an excellent beverage with some refining. “That’s not how we’re made.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But do you…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can be sexual if we want to be, yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale was blushing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Same as angels,” he said as casually as he could. “Like I told you, angels enjoy physical love. Or didn’t they teach you that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, well, no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crawley smirked, though it wasn’t mean.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love is love, Aziraphale.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure that physical love really is love, from what I’ve seen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What have you been up to, you naughty thing,” teased Crawley. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not me!” lied Aziraphale. “I mean the humans that you… made suggestions to. What they were doing was… something animals do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” said Crawley. “But they’re not animals, are they. And you’re not human, are you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ve given me a body, and it… wants things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crawley felt a little frustrated with Aziraphale’s way of framing his predicament. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Angel, all bodies want things. Heaven doesn’t like it because it interferes with your connection to them - or to spirit. But it doesn’t mean you shouldn't let you body have nice things. If it… needs things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale was bright red now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s the best way to learn how to run it,” said Crawley. “To be the master of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The angel wasn't sure if this is what he wanted to hear or not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crawley sighed loudly, clearly bored with the conversation. “I’m going to bathe naked in the moonlight now,” he said. “It’s what creatures of the night do. You know, when they’re not fucking each other.” He winked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale gasped in horror. “You can’t use that word here!” he blustered. “You need a smack!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever,” said Crawley, shaking his head and sauntering away. Stupid angel. Did he really think demons got such childish punishments? “You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could never!” called Aziraphale after him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crawley sniggered as he continued to walk away, knowing the angel was staring at him, and would be for some time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale was sorry. He hadn’t meant to snap at Crawley. Perhaps he was still miffed about the forbidden fruit thing and it just came out. It had been nice having someone to talk to - especially on his last night in Eden. </span>
  <span>He decided he would apologise - for sure. He’d just have to wait until Crawley had finished the moonbathing. Aziraphale wasn’t sure what that meant, so he’d waited around until it was very dark to see. Crawley had been creating a circle out of stones and leaves, but now a cold white light was trickling towards the demon. The moonlight formed a ghostly pool and Crawley stood in the middle. It was a bit like a sundial, if Crawley was the pointy bit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale shuffled closer then crouched down in the long grass. </span>
  <span>In one dramatic movement, Crawley pulled his black robe off and discarded it. His white naked body was </span>
  <em>
    <span>glinting.</span>
  </em>
  
  <span>The angel held his breath and got down lower on his belly, in case he was seen, tucking his wings back as much as he could. He peeped back over the grass to see. Crawley was now dancing very slowly, the splendid ebony wings flowing behind him, and his manhood swinging somehow in unison. Aziraphale couldn’t take his eyes off him, or it. The demon was striking poses, lingering with his long legs, and hiding nothing. He was so free. That power of freedom hit Aziraphale again - just as it had with Adam. Zero inhibition. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Crawley </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> guilty. Aziraphale knew that. Nevertheless, the dancing felt ethereal. It felt like a tribute. The swirling was hypnotic, but the presence - the possession - was like all the power in the universe had found this one being. It was beautiful. It was thrilling. And it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>erotic</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale felt hypnotised. He lay there, enchanted, for what felt like days, every cell in his new body coming more alive. This must be some trick - some terrible seduction. His sex certainly seemed to think so, making itself known, trapped between his tummy and his robe, between him and the soft grass. The demon twirled in front of him and created shapes that the angel had never thought about before. It made his heart race. He flexed his hips before he could tell himself he shouldn’t. If someone saw him, he was just having a sleep on the ground. Nothing wrong with that. He was fully dressed. He was just resting. He was just dreaming.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What Aziraphale didn’t know is that demons aren’t bound by physics. Crawley had danced as sensually as he cared to do - he did genuinely enjoy moonbathing and hoped it would catch on, but that night he was more interested in observing his naughty friend’s sexual exploration. Once he’d danced for a good hour following the moonlight around the garden, he set free his mirror image which had danced in the stream, and set it to loop. What Aziraphale was watching now, therefore, was to all intents and purposes a recording. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crawley tugged his robe back on for camouflage in the dark, and scurried to where he knew the angel would be hiding and likely humping something. He wasn’t disappointed. In the moonlight, Aziraphale’s white wings and silk robe shone out of the long grass, like a dome of ivory. It was moving back and forth. Crawley lay low and watched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale told himself he was only moving his hips to take the tension away. It was his way of managing his feelings, he said. So he kept doing it, only now he couldn’t stop, and his mind filled with images, such as flooding his robe with hot wet seed. Normally, that idea would horrify him, but in his midnight state, it’s what he wanted. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No one would know.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He watched dancing Crawley’s penis and couldn’t help but imagine it in other states. Hard. Ejaculating. Thrusting in and out of someone. Maybe a demon. Maybe Eve. Maybe him. Thrusting in and out of him. He lost all thought and became pure need. And then he liked the fact he was being naughty. He was getting away with it. In the garden of Eden. While a demon danced. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No one could see.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to stop. He wanted to get wet, to make a naughty mess during his totally innocent and secretive cuddle with the ground. He could say it was an accident, or something had gone wrong with his new body. It would be okay. He could do it. He dug his fingers into the earth and rutted against the ground, throughly animated. He was fucking his garden. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fucking.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Just like that naughty demon said. He moaned softly. He was going to do it. He wanted to do it. He even wanted to cry out and risk being heard. So he did - just a little dry, surprised gasp but one of unmistakable sensual pleasure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crawley tried to ignore what this wanton vision was doing to him. That wasn’t the point. It was just supposed to be a bit funny. But now this angel was lost and writhing and moaning before him, </span>
  <em>
    <span>because</span>
  </em>
  <span> of him. Crawley’s mouth went dry and he pressed his thighs together. He was all tingly now. This was the most orgasmic creature he'd ever met. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale’s movements became jerky and erratic, his wings twitching. His dick was having the time of its life, encased by lovely flesh and silk but being rubbed furiously against the grass. This was going to be a big one, he knew - and then it happened. He bucked and writhed, then with a stifled shout was coming and coming and coming, spurting copiously hot up inside his robe, splashing all over his tummy, and feeling the wetness seep onto the grass below. The feel of his emission was everything. </span>
  <span>He was shuddering through aftershocks for some time, wiggling his hips a little to enjoy the forbidden mess. He was happy to fall asleep and even to be discovered in disgrace, and later destroyed for his wickedness. This was the best thing ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crawley had pushed a hand between his legs when he'd felt aroused, in an attempt to stop something from happening. It hadn’t worked and he was wet now, just like the angel. That wasn't supposed to happen - he was sure he'd grown out of that and it only happened when he said so, which was never because he had better things to do. He muttered a miracle very quickly to chase it all away. Without the worry of having embarrassed himself, a totally cool and disinterested demon, other thoughts arrived. A concern. A yearning. Something soft and something kind. Crawley had a very strange feeling that one day he’d watch his angel orgasm, but without the cover of darkness, or concealing positions, or clothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smirked. His angel. He liked that idea. </span>
  <span>And then he started to wonder when that time would come. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale had fallen asleep, but only for about 3 minutes. He awoke, suddenly concerned once more about being caught in a state of debauchery. Crawley was still dancing, apparently. He relished lying there in a state of profound relaxation and dishevelment. It was blissful. The garden was silent. The moon was still shining. He never wanted to move, despite the state of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the floaty feeling gave way to the nagging need to wee. He shifted. He really didn't want to move. He was wet and sticky. He’d ruined his robe. He’d fucked the grass. Why didn’t he just…? </span>
  <span>Could he really be that naughty? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Who would know?</span>
  </em>
  <span> He was lying on the grass in the dark, barely conscious, a secretly sinful angel. No one could see him, what he had done, or what he was doing, and no one would see him piddle. And after all, it was his day off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was so insistent. He let a bit out, wetting his front with a spurt, then stopped, a little scared. It felt deliciously naughty to wee in his clothes, especially given he'd only just learned not to. But it wasn't his fault if he had a little accident again, was it. But the temptation was overwhelming. </span>
  <span>It was far easier to just give in then actually move. With a soft moan, he was doing it. He was wetting himself completely, enjoying the intense relief as it flooded from him and his wonderful penis, feeling the hot cascade spread rapidly beneath him. He chuckled quietly to himself. So lazy. It was his secret. As soon as he was done, he’d miracle it away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crawley was frowning, wondering if the very still angel was going to start rutting again, or fall asleep exactly where he was, but something caught his eye. A puddle spilling out from underneath him. Aziraphale was relieving himself (he had been drinking the water all day) where he lay. Crawley couldn’t believe this guy. Where were the archangels when a hedonistic cherub needed disciplining? He would never have gotten away with… he sighed. Golden ringlets. Every time. Bloody free pass. He briefly considered adopting the cherub and giving him a piece of his mind, if not a smack on the leg, when he remembered that Aziraphale was adjusting to a new body, having been told nothing, and that he was leaving the garden because a naughty snake had made trouble for everyone. ‘Whose house is made of glass should not throw stones at another,’ he considered. So he quietly watched the angel indulge. Nothing wrong with it, of course, thought Crawley. Just bold as brass, doing it here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The flow eventually abated, and Aziraphale sighed with relief, but also a little disappointment. That felt </span>
  <em>
    <span>so good</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Maybe he would get the chance to do it again one day. He wiggled his hips, preparing to miracle himself clean and pure. The dance had ended and the moonlight was somewhere else now, so he needed to act. He was about to, but curiosity got the better of him. He wanted to see the mess he’d made, so he pushed himself up and sat on his heels. The front of his robe was wet through to the point of transparency all the way up to his waist, and all the way down to his knees. There was a considerable milky stain in the middle of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He touched it. It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>naughty</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He liked it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well well well,” said Crawley, who was standing right in front of him with his arms crossed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale froze. He hadn’t noticed that the demon had come up to him. That was fast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have a little accident, Aziraphale?” asked Crawley. “Wet the… flower bed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I, um, I fell asleep, and I’m still getting used to…” he stammered desperately. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that before or after you had a wet dream?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale looked at the demon’s face. Crawley was having a field day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a new body,” he said, collapsing into a pout. “I’ve only had it for a few hours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aha,” said Crawley in a manner which Aziraphale knew was calling bullshit. The demon clicked his fingers, and the robe was a shining brand new as it was on Aziraphale’s day of creation. It was a much better miracle than he could have performed. It glowed as the sky started to lighten - dawn was coming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Thank you,” he said emphatically, trying not to think about what Crawley had figured out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon helped to angel to his feet. “Tricky thing, physiology,” said Crawley. “But it’s not so bad once you get used to it.” He grinned, then became a little more serious. </span>
  <span>"If I were you, I'd tread carefully with the Heaven lot," said Crawley, unsure why he was bothering to say this. "If they find out about the flaming sword you could get into big trouble. And try to keep certain things private?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale looked bashful, and found himself at a loss for words. This demon was oddly kind. He could have easily told on him by now.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Be a good angel, Aziraphale. Nice meeting you." Just like that, Crawley appeared to sink into a black puddle that melted into the grass and disappeared. </span>
</p><p>Aziraphale felt that was best. He’d had a lovely final day, but it had got a little out of hand, and all he cared about now was transitioning into his new role without any problems, and getting out of the garden without any last minute smacked bottoms. By mid morning, he had his envelope, some earth clothes which were a good deal rougher than the silk robe which he’d admittedly mistreated for some time, and a list of commandments. The top one said “take up thy flaming sword”. He gulped, deciding not to look at the other commandments.</p><p>As he followed the glowing stepping stones all the way into a land of full of sand, he felt relief that he wouldn't have to see that wily serpent ever again, because that wily serpent meant trouble. Especially those slinky hips. </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter includes sexual situations between Aziraphale and an original male character</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>After the garden</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale thought back to his time in the Garden with immense embarrassment. He'd observed human children exhibiting similar signs of curiosity with their bodies and needs, and felt sorry for them when they became more aware. They, like him, were taught to be ashamed of what they had been given. And often the adults were cruel as a result of their mortification. The angel considered he'd been fortunate to have been kindly guided by a more worldly, albeit fallen, angel, during what he now considered to be his 'childhood'. He liked to think of these things in human terms as it made him feel more at home. And when he remembered the fallen angel's kindness, he felt that perhaps Crawley was more of a young teenager type who'd been thrown out for getting into trouble, but was a good kid deep down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then the angel would blush, because Crawley had been witness to some rather incriminating behaviour that Aziraphale would rather was forgotten. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A millennia went by. Aziraphale found this strange. Time moved a little differently on earth. Those days in Eden had felt like forever, but here, the humans had such quaint little time periods. They blinked in and out of existence really very fast. He'd started out by making friends, being thoughtful, lending a hand and propagating forgiveness. He'd had to retreat when it became clear that most people found these qualities to be indelibly weak. Aziraphale had been bullied quite a bit, and on more than one occasion, pushed very hard. But he had the good sense to get out of those situations, with or without a little miracle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As for his body, he experimented with various features. He removed troublesome appendages but found the heat never really left him. He had a passion for life, and an appreciation of beauty, and was drawn to certain energies. He tried very hard to be a sexless angel, but now and again, he simply became too warm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The world was far too small at that point to avoid living around the humans, so he lived as one, in a house, with a bed. He didn't care for sleep that much, but he had to keep up appearances, so he'd retire to his bed like everyone else. With nothing better to do, his mind would race, a landscape of hot sun, blue sky, and pounding life force in his veins, but he would eventually sleep and dream. He dreamed of shapes and colours that reminded him of a moonlit forest, and a naked body that was trying to touch him. A white hand would reach for his clothed crotch, which Aziraphale didn't mind, but then he would realise with horror that his crotch was very wet and the white hand was about to find out. When he woke up, he'd discover he'd orgasmed in his sleep and made quite a mess. He assumed he was broken. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He eventually talked to a medicine woman about a 'friend' who was celibate, and how the 'friend' sometimes woke up a bit wet, and how the 'friend' was most distressed by this. The medicine woman told him that it comes out at night if it doesn't come out in the day, and it's better for the 'friend' to 'tend to himself' regularly, for health reasons. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale found it most interesting that this course of action might actually be good. But now he started looking forward to going to bed. He preferred to make a mess of himself on his terms, you see. He could hear couplings sometimes, and imagined what it looked like. He'd roll over and rub against the bedding, slowly and carefully, and very, very quiet. He learned to be silent, even when he lost control of his movements and came, spilling on his bedclothes. It cleared his mind, usually, unless it was a particularly warm summer and this became a nightly occurrence for a time. But every now and again the novelty would wear off. He thought of flesh to flesh contact, and knew he'd never have it. Then he'd become a depressed angel. A lonely angel. </span>
  <span>He found certain things soothing - water, and the light of the moon. Those were both strangely reassuring, but they were mostly in his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was finding Mesopotamia to be rather dry and unforgiving, and was considering travel, when he received a memo from heaven to 'stay put because things were about to get real'. He did as he was told, of course, but his anxiety was growing and growing. One night, </span>
  <span>Aziraphale received a 'standby' message that implied he'd never see his neighbours again, so </span>
  <span>he went to find his particular human friend, whose name was Max, but everyone called him 'Bear'. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bear was a large man who won a fight just by standing up, but Aziraphale knew him to be kind. Bear had no interest in fighting anyone. He was a gentle giant. He also had no interest in marriage or women, but did enjoy conversation, so Bear and Aziraphale often talked all evening about the way of the world, and the way of men. Some of the meaner people in the village called them 'Daddy Bear and Baby Bear' when they were seen together. Bear was protective of Aziraphale. The angel could admit he had a little crush on this human. Yes, he was fond of this human. He made him feel safe. And Bear had a lot of common sense about getting by. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Bear, despite his name, was not on the manifest of humans being rescued. Aziraphale stared at him over his drink, trying to think of the proper way to say goodbye, without being able to say goodbye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What's wrong, Blondie?" asked Bear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, nothing. I just wonder if you won't be lonely. I mean, if I were to leave."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bear frowned. "You're not allowed to leave. I'd come and get you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale beamed. "I hope so - mean, thank you." He was blushing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bear leaned in with a mock seriousness. "Now, you're not thinking of going somewhere without telling me, are you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, of course not," said Aziraphale. He was telling the truth but it was still hard to look Bear in the eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not lying to me, are you, Aziraphale? Naughty..."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale blushed even more. That word triggered him. It made him feel squirmy. His crotch throbbed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bear had been enjoying teasing his friend, but now was a little concerned. "Oi," he said, and stood. He indicated with a nod that they go to another room, so Aziraphale stood and followed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Disgusting," he heard someone mutter as he followed Bear, but he held himself confidently as he went.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bear led him to room he had which afforded them some privacy. "Now look, lil bear, I won't be happy with you if you scamper off. You know that." He said it lovingly, and Aziraphale felt giddy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh dear," he said coyly. "Would I be in terrible trouble?" The baby blue eyes twinkled, and it was too much for Bear, who scooped him up and held him to his chest. Aziraphale's feet did not touch the floor, but his groin was pressed firmly against Bear's considerable belly. He moaned with pleasure at the contact, and Bear growled, feeling Aziraphale's hardness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Naughty lil bear," murmured Bear sweetly. He started kissing the warm angel in his arms - on his cheeks, on his neck, and poor Aziraphale couldn't help but cant his hips, which elicited a soft chuckle from the large man holding him. "Come ere," Bear cooed, carrying Aziraphale over to his bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale gasped and froze, eyes wide as he realised the implication. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's okay. I just wanna hold you," said Bear. "Just like this. Just a good hug. That okay?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale was pink-faced, his mind foggy. His hips were keen to move and he could feel his muscles clenching. He nodded, and Bear sat down with his angel wrapped around him. Then the larger man leaned backwards, legs out on the bed. Aziraphale was essentially straddling him, but cuddled up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wouldn't mind a kiss, though?" said Bear. It was said sadly, as if he knew this could be the suggestion to end everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale felt compassion rush through him. "Don't be sad," he reassured his giant friend. "A kiss is a good thing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not good when it's with..." Bear trailed off. He was rubbing Aziraphale's back. </span>
</p><p>"Now now, love is love," said Aziraphale. "Not everyone will understand, but I do." </p><p>
  <span>"So you don’t see anything wrong with it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No. Consenting adults and all that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you consenting, lil bear?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, I do wish you wouldn’t call me that," said Aziraphale, unable to resist rolling his hips.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bear nuzzled him. "You like it. I can tell. Come on. Be a good lil bear." Bear lifted his chin, and kissed Aziraphale on the lips. The angel loved it. He was kissing a human, which was a bit forbidden, but he was also kissing his particular friend. Flesh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kiss intensified until they were both moaning, lightly rocking together. Aziraphale could feel Bear's hardness under his buttocks, and was starting to wonder what might happen next, when Bear hoisted up Aziraphale's smock to reveal the angel's raging, leaking penis. He chuckled, then with some manoeuvring, pulled his own clothing out of the way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale moaned weakly. He was rubbing against warm, human flesh. And more importantly, his friend who was holding him so lovingly, kissing his ringlets, stroking his hair, not rushing him, just cuddling him so very tenderly while the angel steadily rolled his hips over and over, relishing the sensation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He occasionally looked up and kissed Bear on the lips. Bear's breathing was ragged, pupils blown, clearly adoring his little horny bear rubbing off on his stomach. </span>
</p><p><span>"Good lil bear," whispered Bear. "</span>Oh ho ho, you like it," he added, as Aziraphale started to hump his belly quicker. He was also leaking a good deal now. </p><p>"Oh you’re ready to pop. Easy. Be a good little bear."</p><p>He softly patted the angel's bottom, which didn't help Aziraphale calm down at all. The angel tried not to hear the words his mind was screaming, such as DADDY BEAR LOVES YOU AND IS TAKING CARE OF YOU.</p><p>"I..." said Aziraphale. "I can't stop. I..." he was rutting now, holding onto his Bear for dear life.</p><p>"Come here. Oh that’s it. Good boy. Good boy. I’ve got you," said Bear so very tenderly, though he combined it with a good squeeze of the angel's bottom.</p><p>Aziraphale orgasmed hard, coating Bear in lots and lots of milky come, shuddering and sighing. The larger man groaned at the vision, still petting his little bear. He reached down and took himself in hand. Aziraphale groggily identified the jerky movements, and blinked at the face of his friend, who was enraptured while clearly on the brink himself. The angel softly kissed Bear on the cheek, and glowed as he watching the pleasure overtake him.</p><p>Bear failed to come quietly, though muffled his cries into the nook of Aziraphale's neck. The next thing the angel knew, hot ropes of come were splattering over his bottom. He hadn't seen it, but he felt it, and he loved it.</p><p>They lay together blissfully, occasionally kissing, continuously stroking one another. </p><p>It was shortly before dawn when Bear had started snoring. Aziraphale had climbed out of the best embrace of his life and wandered to the window. He thought about the kind of sex they could do to each other when Bear woke up. As he gazed out, he saw a familiar shape - a tall person, dressed all in black with flaming red hair. There wasn't anyone in the village like that. Who was she? Or he? The figure stopped, and turned to look directly at Aziraphale with piercing yellow eyes. The angel gasped. Crawley? Here? Must be something to do with the genocide thing, he assumed. He could sense the hairs standing up on his neck. But then Crawley was gone. </p><p>He looked back at his snoring Bear, then climbed back onto his belly for a cuddle. The warm arms encased him, even in sleep. As Bear started to wake up, they started to kiss and move together again. There was nothing like frotting against a warm loving body. Aziraphale came a second time with contented sigh, and was flipped onto his back as Bear leaned above him. Aziraphale wondered if he was to be penetrated, but Bear simply started stroking himself again, eyes intensely fixed on his little bear, then with a series of grunts spurted all over the front of the angel. </p><p>Aziraphale <em>glowed. </em></p><p>They washed together, laughed together, and talked about breakfast, until the commotion outside became impossible to ignore. Something about Noah and that weird boat. </p><p>Bear insisted he'd go off and get some good cuts for breakfast, despite Aziraphale's protestations, and said he'd be back before the sun was too high in the sky. The angel was stressed beyond the telling of it. He decided to go and see the stupid ark. Surely God's plans were metaphorical. Surely. </p><p> </p><p>He never saw Bear again. But it gave him a strange comfort to know it was because he could never see any of those humans again and the matter was out of his hands. When he discovered that Crawley had been smuggling children and various women onto the Ark, he felt with a pang that he could have brought Bear. But it was unlikely Bear could have stayed hidden.</p><p>He resolved, though, to always find out what the demon knew. It seemed they had work to do, and possibly together. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Contains suggestions of a rape fantasy from the POV of the rapist, albeit as part of a dream.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale had done a good job of covering for Crawley and his stowaways. He hoped very much that Heaven wouldn't find out - after all this was against God's wishes and these were the actions of a demon. But forgetting the woman in black (as Aziraphale had started thinking of Crawley), he could see nothing wrong with the humans. </p><p>He'd threatened to tell on Crawley once when Crawley was being disparaging about sanctimonious angels, and Crawley had grabbed him by the collar and threatened to hit him. Actually hit him. But a child had interrupted and told Crawley he should be more grateful to Mister Zira for keeping them a secret. </p><p>Both Crawley and Aziraphale sheepishly mumbled their apologies. A few days later they were laughing together and telling stories. Aziraphale watched Crawley with the humans. Maybe he was confused, but it looked very much like Crawley was healing them, somehow. He didn't know fallen angels could do that. Maybe it was all a misunderstanding, and Crawley was still an angel. Kindness never failed to make him glow, or make him feel very alive. </p><p>Crawley on the other hand was impressed with his little cherub. He'd grown up quite a bit, knew a thing or two, and was even pretty clever. He was also going against his instructions on a daily basis because he could see what the situation was on the ground, and would never 'just follow orders'. Rebellion never failed to make Crawley tingle, or make him feel very alive. </p><p>By the end of the 150 days, Aziraphale was regularly 'tending to himself' when it was night time. He told himself it was cabin fever. And Crawley was telling himself exactly the same thing. </p><p>The Ark finally settled on the mountains of Ararat and a new era began, with both angel and demon receiving new assignments. </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>33 A.D. Golgotha</b>
</p><p> </p><p>So it was Crowley, now. Aziraphale was impressed that a demon should want to develop itself. And he couldn't stop thinking about how kind Crowley had been to Jesus.</p><p>The angel was still rather shaken by the events of that day. Humans could be terrible. Everything could be terrible. He decided that actually sleep could be useful at this point, so blew his candle out and retired to a heap of linens behind a curtain that was his bed, in a large building full of travellers. He miracled a deep sleep, but with nice dreams, and hoped that when he woke up things might be better. </p><p>Crowley on the other hand couldn't sleep. He liked Jesus. He was thoughtful and rational. A little bit 'out there' but a decent person - a diamond in the rough. And now he was gone, and there was no one left on earth who had that sort of presence, or ability to stand up for what was right. He walked past a household of people who'd genuinely enjoyed the crucifixion, and had a wee on their doorstep. It didn't make him feel better, though. So he kept walking until he came to the traveller's lodge. It occurred to him that Aziraphale would be in there, and for the first time since the crucifixion, Crowley's heart felt light. He slipped into a slender snake form and slithered into the building. </p><p>He eventually found his angel, but was surprised to find him asleep. That was no fun at all. So Crowley curled up next to him and wondered what he was dreaming about. A dastardly wickedness took over, and he began hissing suggestions in the angel's ear. </p><p>Poor Aziraphale was in a lovely sleep, nice and cosy, safe and loved. He was dreaming about a lovely summer day and a delicious feast. But the dream started to change. The sun went down, and instead of going back into the house, he was sneaking around the trees in the garden. He was being a naughty angel, but it felt good, and he knew something glorious awaited him in dark. He arrived at a barn, full of soft hay, where a beautiful woman lay in her black smock, chestnut hair tumbling about her shoulders, and milky white skin. Moonlight filtered into the barn and illuminated her face. She was wearing gold earrings, and Aziraphale knew he'd come here to meet her. </p><p>"It's healthy," said the woman, who lifted her knees up. Aziraphale could sense the inviting heat, the glistening wetness, and he knew he was going to mount her and make love to her.  </p><p>In his sleep, Aziraphale wriggled. An erection was visible under his smock, and Crowley grinned to himself. "Go in," he breathed into the angel's ear. "Hot love."</p><p>The angel rolled over in his sleep. In the dream, he was kneeling before the woman, taking his penis in hand and guiding it into her. He sank into an impossible heat, then tried to make love to her gently. She was making ungodly noises, and Aziraphale couldn't control himself. He needed to go harder. Faster. He needed to <em>fuck</em> her. He held her down and was practically crushing her, but he was chasing the best orgasm in all creation. Her long white legs wrapped around him. She was good to stay still for him, while he took her, satisfying his lust, filling her with...</p><p>Her yellow eyes glowed and the angel knew he was going to...</p><p>Aziraphale woke up with a start, and Crowley shrank out of sight behind some shoes, but stayed close. He watched as the angel realised how aroused he was - how hard he was, and how much he'd already leaked. With a cursory glance around him, the angel started thrusting against his bed aggressively, fisting the bedding, gritting his teeth. He desperately wanted to be back in that barn, fucking that girl in the hay, holding her down as she whimpered against him as he drove himself into that heat. She was soft and light in his arms, and he was big and strong and not to be reckoned with. He held her in place and...</p><p>He stifled a yell in the pillow and thoroughly soaked the sheet beneath him. His breathing calmed and he rolled on his side to inspect the mess. He appeared surprised by how wet it was, then after a quick glance to make sure no one was watching, miracled it all away, complete with a slightly more tidy bed. Then he curled up into the fetal position and tried to come to terms with where his mind had been. </p><p>The next day, he could barely remember the dream, and the fantasy in his head seemed extremely unfamiliar. He supposed he did love to get off on his front, so it would make sense if there was someone beneath him. Perhaps he should be on the look out for a girl with bright gold earrings who he could marry or something. He did have an uncomfortable recollection that he was rather forceful, but he reminded himself it was only a dream. A dream that mind his spine tingle, but only a dream.</p><p>His reverie was interrupted by the news that someone had messed with Jesus' grave and there was all kinds of hysteria and misinformation going on, so he got back to work, feeling oddly light. </p><p>Crowley had snaked out of the room feeling ashamed. He knew he was a demon, but wondered if turning someone on without them knowing, then watching that someone masturbate, was acceptable, even by demonic standards. He felt guilty, which annoyed him. But he also knew he'd never get tired of watching his angel rub himself off. There was something almost endearing about it. Aziraphale was still the most orgasmic creature Crowley had ever seen. He was more interested in games of strategy himself, but watching an angel give in to such temptations was a really, really good hobby. He bathed in cold water that morning, and tried not to think about what other dreams he could put in the angels head, that would make him 'wet' the bed. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warning for mild omorashi: This chapter includes an act of wetting oneself for pleasure in a sexual situation. Not quite the same thing as watersports, but please brace yourself. Also mild consensual spanking.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>41 A.D. Rome</b>
</p><p> </p><p>"Let me tempt you," he'd said. Bloody angel. He'd get them both into trouble one of these days. But to be fair, those oysters had been delicious, bordering on sinful, so it was essentially a temptation. It was just that Aziraphale was naughty to do the tempting. Plus Crowley was fairly sure that there was something evil in them. He was in far too good a mood than was savoury. It would be a while before Crowley, or Aziraphale for that matter, learned the word 'aphrodisiac'.</p><p>He was trying to focus on his job; encouraging the local menfolk to visit the baths. Nothing wrong with the baths of course - cleanliness was next to Godliness. It was who was waiting in the baths that was the catch. Men and women, aged between too young and still pretty damn young and willing to see to your every need, waited patiently in the various nooks that the Roman baths were famous for. These particular baths, anyway. And everyone came out smelling fabulous, and lighter on their feet, in exchange for a few coins.</p><p>The enchanted oysters had made Crowley wonder if maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be inappropriate for him to nip in for half an hour, just until his head cleared. He squirmed and was about to give in, when a gentleman passed by. Crowley quickly acted.</p><p>"One hour free at the baths, tonight, sir? Special offer?"</p><p>"No thank you," came the gruff reply, indicating he knew exactly what the special offer was. </p><p>"Suit yourself," said Crowley, shifting uncomfortably. He could swear there was a warm breeze going up between his legs and tickling him. </p><p>"Special offer?!" came a delighted, familiar voice. It was Aziraphale.</p><p>"Oh no. Not you."</p><p>"That's not very nice. You can't get me all squiffy and then be rude," said Aziraphale tartly. </p><p>"It's not your kind of... special offer," said Crowley.</p><p>"Oh. Evil?"</p><p>"Very evil. The evilest."</p><p>"Well I happen to like these baths very much, and..."</p><p>A young Roman man appeared by the entrance. He was the sort of young man people painted, or made statues of. "Customer?" he asked sweetly.</p><p>"Hi Tino, I was just explaining that our special offer is... full up," said Crowley, thinking he was being clever.</p><p>"No!" said Tino dramatically. Mister Albion, always space for a gentleman! We have nice bath for you."</p><p>Aziraphale, who found himself staring at Tino, smiled broadly, and did not stop staring at Tino.</p><p>"Tino," warned Crowley. "Mr Albion is new here, and doesn't know how our baths work."</p><p>"No I've been here before!" said Aziraphale, obliviously.</p><p>Tino finally caught on. "I see - is special night Mr Albion but you can have as much or as a little..."</p><p>"Or as nothing," mumbled Crowley in Tino's direction.</p><p>"...as you like, uh?"</p><p>"Sounds lovely."</p><p>Tino and Aziraphale immediately disappeared inside, and Crowley sighed. He did try. And at least that had taken his mind of the 'unusually warm evening' that was getting to him. He wasn't sure how long it would last though, and a familiar pang returned to his groin. "Fuck's sake," he muttered, trying to remember who was on the roster tonight. </p><p> </p><p>"Keep hydrated, Mister, yes?" Tino put a jug of cool water and two cups next to Aziraphale, who'd been deposited in a small nook he'd never seen before. It was lovely and private, which made him feel better about the fact he was naked but for the towel on his lap. The hot steam and general temperature of the baths were quite exotic for an Englishman, or an English angel, even, so the angel gladly drank. He wasn't sure why he'd need two mugs, but perhaps it was in case he broke one. He decided to focus on the healing nature of the baths, and breathe deeply. </p><p>He was finding it all very relaxing, when Tino, in the same state of undress, came and sat down next to him, as if that was always going to happen. Aziraphale was of course too polite to say anything. Besides, Tino seemed like a perfectly pleasant young man. Soon enough, they were sharing the water and chatting amiably. </p><p>"So, Tino, why is it a special offer tonight?" asked Aziraphale conversationally. </p><p>"It’s my birthday, Sir," said Tino, coyly.</p><p>"Oh! Happy Birthday!" said the angel with disarming warmth that made the younger man want to run into his arms.</p><p>Tino beamed at him, then acting on that impulse was immediately in Aziraphale's lap, giving him a very genuine hug. "Thank you Mister. Genus."</p><p>"Oh, I say. Well you're very welcome," said Aziraphale, getting an erection and being grateful for the towel. Tino weighed nothing. He was fit and sinewy but also slight and compact.</p><p>"And um," said Aziraphale. "You're how old today?" </p><p>"One and twenty, sir," answered Tino. </p><p>"Oh thank God," said the angel, and Tino giggled. Aziraphale was determined to keep being civilised. "And are you studying? Are you betrothed?"</p><p>Tino shook his head. "I work, Sir."</p><p>"And no young lady, or?"</p><p>"I don’t want married. I want making money and become the scholar." </p><p>"Oh, good boy!"</p><p>Tino blushed at that, then kissed Aziraphale on the neck, and shifted so he was straddling the angel, his towel still covering his manhood.</p><p>"Oh dear," intoned Aziraphale, regretting the wine and the oysters and the demon and the nook. </p><p>"I’d like to be good for you, sir," rasped Tino.</p><p>"Tino..." warned the angel.</p><p>"I would. I would be good for you. Everyone talks about how kind you are. And learned. I could learn from you. And I know you like…" </p><p>Aziraphale frowned. </p><p>"You like people who are keen to learn. And I could be good to you in return." </p><p>He pecked Aziraphale on the lips. </p><p>"Now, behave yourself. I’m old enough to be your father. And you know this isn’t the sort of thing that’s wise to do in..."</p><p>"I know. But I like it sir."</p><p>"<em>Tino</em>," it was a scolding this time. </p><p>Unfortunately it resulted in a passionate French kiss. Aziraphale gave in to what was the best tongue kiss of his life so far (it was his only tongue kiss so far), and was disappointed when Tino broke it off to continue talking. </p><p>"I would be good to study with you. I behave beautifully. You will never be cross with me."</p><p>"I will be if you don't kiss me again."</p><p>Tino laughed and went straight back to it, this time complete with rocking his hips. Aziraphale held him firmly in place, kissing him hungrily. They broke off when the friction below became impossible to ignore. </p><p>Tino grinned and reached for a cup of water. He drank it down thirstily then refilled it, then gave it to Aziraphale. </p><p>"Drink. Is hot for you here."</p><p>Aziraphale did as he said, grateful for the cold water. Tino replaced the mugs then took Aziraphale's hands and placed them <em>firmly</em> back on his hips. They were both slowly, deliberately, grinding against one another.</p><p>"That was quite the birthday kiss," said Aziraphale, because he needed to say something. </p><p>"It was a good kiss." </p><p>The angel smiled lovingly at him. "Do you often kiss the men in here?"</p><p>Tino looked away for a moment. Then bravely returned his gaze to Aziraphale. “Yes sir. It’s a special place. We take care of each other.”</p><p>The smiled dropped off Aziraphale's face. “Oh. I see," he said. The penny dropped. It all made sense. Though Aziraphale felt like he'd known that already, but had chosen not to look it in the face. He thought he might continue to sort of forget that information. After all, he didn't want to have to stop rolling his hips.</p><p>"No one like you, though," said Tino earnestly. "Promise. The clever man. The golden man. The good man. I want... for my birthday."</p><p>"Oh God," said Aziraphale. </p><p>"And if I'm bad, the good man will teach me."</p><p>"Are you bad?"</p><p>"Sometimes," answered Tino, blatantly coquettish now. </p><p>"I see," said the angel, playing along. </p><p>"I don't mean to be. But I know you will forgive. Maybe punish me. But forgive." </p><p>Aziraphale thought he might burst into flames. His dick was leaking and rubbing against another he'd just met. Tino's long dark eyelashes were flirting outrageously. He was slightly concerned about climaxing like this, though not concerned enough to slow things down. His fingers squeezed the Roman's buttocks, eliciting a gasp.</p><p>"You are being very naughty, Tino," murmured Aziraphale.</p><p>Tino bit his lip theatrically. He'd been starting to fidget.</p><p>"Do I need to put you over my knee?" asked the angel sternly. This would be the perfect diversion before he creamed the towel, he thought.</p><p>"Yes," said Tino.</p><p>Aziraphale held in a laugh. He loved Romans. So direct. </p><p>"Well then," he said, starting to usher Tino.</p><p>"But first I..." stammered Tino breathlessly.</p><p>"What is it?"</p><p>"I had too much water. I need to go to the..."</p><p>"Oh no no no," said Aziraphale. Nice try, young man. Over my knee."</p><p>Aziraphale was enjoying himself immensely. He knew they'd both had a lot to drink and he knew he also needed to relieve himself soon, but nothing was going to interrupt this. They could use the restrooms afterwards. He guided Tino over his lap and arranged the younger man's towel so it fell away from his bottom, but remained covering his front. He lightly rubbed what was the most wonderfully pert backside he'd seen, perhaps ever, then set about smacking it. It wasn't very hard, just a statement, with nice slapping sounds. He delivered a dozen mild smacks as Tino wriggled on his lap. </p><p>Tino moaned on each impact, and Aziraphale could feel the Roman's hardness against his thigh. </p><p>"Impertinente!" chided the angel. "Naughty! Whatever will I do with you." He chuckled warmly, and repositioned Tino's towel. Good to have some modesty. "Now sit up, you rascal."</p><p>Tino did as he was told, returning to straddle Aziraphale. He was pink in the face, eyes cloudy, but he seemed agitated. </p><p>"Are you all right?" asked Aziraphale kindly.</p><p>"Sir, I am going to be bad." He cupped himself through the white towel and bit his lip again. He started jiggling. "Can't help it. Wet myself."</p><p>"Oh, now that <em>is</em> naughty", said the angel, but he was transfixed by Tino's dilemma. The young man wiggled, groaned, squeezed the tip of his evidently softening penis through his towel, and <em>pouted</em>. </p><p>Aziraphale felt dizzy. He wasn't really going to do it was he? On his lap. On his towel? </p><p>"Too late, I did it," said Tino, appearing almost distressed as Aziraphale heard the sound of liquid hitting material. They both looked down at his crotch. The towel was wet instantly, then sopping as wee gushed through and pooled with a pattering sound into the towel on Aziraphale's lap. His towel, the only thing he had on, and the only thing between the world and a considerable hard-on, became vividly hot and drenched in the centre. The sensational heat spread across the angel's crotch, his privates, and then across his thighs as both towels were saturated, and they could hear light dripping on the floor. </p><p>It stopped. Aziraphale felt he was one fast movement from adding to the mess. Tino was breathing hard, lips parted, eyes hooded, hand still uselessly holding himself, and doing a very good job of looking like an innocent who'd just had an accident. He hung his head. "It was an accident sir. You can punish me if you like." </p><p>"You’re a naughty boy," said Aziraphale in a low growl he didn't recognise. He caressed Tino's leg as he glared sternly at the young man. The angel didn't feel like himself. He felt <em>predatory</em> for the first time ever.  </p><p>"Yes sir."</p><p>"<em>Wetting</em> yourself."</p><p>Another dangerous growl. But every inch of him throbbed. He didn't know why it aroused him. All he knew is it felt deadly intimate. So utterly private and breathtakingly personal, that to be allowed to witness such a thing was a euphoric privilege. A euphoric privilege that made his entire body feel fuzzy and giddy. The towel in his lap was no longer able to conceal how he felt about this, given that it was now clinging to a fierce erection. Aziraphale looked at it, then looked at Tino. Tino was staring at it. He shifted forward in his lap, and grazed the bulge with his own hardening penis. </p><p>The angel moaned. "Oh, dear boy," he said sweetly. "That is wicked." But he held Tino tightly and ground back against him. They were staring at each other's faces - two pictures of complete arousal, and breathing hard. They ground together slowly at first, then gripped each other, kissed indecently, and after several feverish minutes of gasping and grunting, came together, adding a milky mess to their towels. They made far too much noise, but were beyond caring. </p><p>They stayed there in a heap until their breathing returned to normal. </p><p>"You want to?" said Tino finally. He was sporting a cheeky grin.</p><p>"I want to?' asked Aziraphale. He grinned back, his eyes glazed over. "I want to kiss you, and spank you, and... do many things to you over and over."</p><p>"Again?"</p><p>"Oh I think it might need a moment, dear," said Aziraphale. He penis had certainly gone to sleep. His bladder on the other hand was alive and kicking. He winced, as Tino moved, and the young man looked deeply in his eyes, head on one side. </p><p>"You want to?" he asked again. He put his hand on the wet towel in Aziraphale's lap. </p><p>"Now that's..." started Aziraphale, shifting in his seat. The pressure of having a man in his lap wasn't helping. But the idea of getting up and walking away from his boy, and going to a cold restroom, was unthinkable. And he'd be lying if he said a part of him didn't want to sneakily...</p><p>"Birthday special," said Tino. "He moved his hand to Aziraphale's abdomen and applied some pressure. </p><p>"Oh! Now! I really will be cross," said the angel, a little panicked by the sensation. It felt a bit too good. His breathed shakily.</p><p>"Shhhh," said Tino, pressing harder. "Pssssswiisssssssswissssssssss." It was a gentle hiss, and Aziraphale was done for. Something gave way deep inside and he didn't try to stop it. He closed his eyes. He hoped like Hell no one was going to walk in on them, on him, wetting himself, a grown angel. But there he was. He felt it burst from him like a kind of orgasm, then moaned as it spread burning hot through the cooled towel, around his bottom, over the seat, onto the floor. It sounded loud to him, but it couldn't have been audible to anyone except him and Tino. He opened his eyes, feeling the purest relief he'd felt in forever, as the flow abated. It had also been a very long time since he'd experience the euphoria of doing something that naughty. He chuckled softly to himself, and kissed Tino on the lips. </p><p>"Mr Albion," said Tino, who looked incredibly happy. "You feel good now?"</p><p>"Very good."</p><p>"We have showers now!"</p><p>"Yes, yes, we really do," said Aziraphale emphatically.</p><p> </p><p>He showered efficiently and got himself ready to leave, occasionally glancing around for signs of witnesses, demons, angels or hellfire that might sneak up on him. Tino appeared, dressed and chirpy, and held out a cap. </p><p>"What's this?" asked Aziraphale.</p><p>"Special offer but not free," answered the Roman. </p><p>The angel stared into the cap. There were one or two gold coins in there. He looked at Tino, who smiled. "Was beautiful night with golden man. Beautiful."</p><p>Aziraphale felt his heart crumble. He also wondered if he'd ever be able to hear the word 'golden' again without feeling wretched. </p><p>"Please. My birthday," encouraged Tino. </p><p>"Of course." The angel numbly found his purse and took out two gold coins, and deposited them in the cap. Every bone in his body felt like it had turned to lead.</p><p>"Thank you Mister Albion, sir. You are good. You are kind. Clever man. I can come and read with you?"</p><p>Aziraphale studied the Roman's face. He seemed completely genuine. But how could that work now? "Perhaps," said the angel, hearing his own voice catch. </p><p>Tino registered the sorrow in the angel. "No, Mister Albion," he said, his voice very different too. "I work. I must work. Please. Is not a game. I no trick you. Please." He caught the angel's hand in his. "I am good boy. Really. Is hard place. Forgive me, kind man."</p><p>Aziraphale smiled as warmly as he could, despite feeling low on reserves, and placed his hand over Tino's. "You didn't do anything wrong. Goodnight, Tino." He started to walk away, then from somewhere, found a little levity. He turned back. "And, be a good boy." He winked, and Tino grinned so hard he lit up the night. Aziraphale's heart lifted a bit, and he made sure he got out of there as quickly and discreetly as possible, trying not to think about the fact he had just accidentally had sex with a prostitute. </p><p> </p><p>The Roman studied the two gold coins with pure joy, as the angel disappeared into the darkness. </p><p>"Busy night, Tino?" asked Crowley, appearing in the doorway and stepping out into the street.</p><p>"I am rich!" said Tino. "Good man. Kind man."</p><p>Crowley was very still. "And you just talked?"</p><p>"I just sat on him.”</p><p>"You sat on him?"</p><p>"Sat on his knee. For story."</p><p>“And he paid you for this?”</p><p>Tino nodded. </p><p>Crowley narrowed his snake-like eyes, and Tino shrunk away. "And when you sat on him," said Crowley. "Did anything happen?" </p><p>"Story," said Tino firmly. "Good man. Gentleman."</p><p>The demon fixed Tino with a glare. "Ah well. Just for a moment in there I could have sworn I heard him calling out."</p><p>"No, was next door. Daisy and the priest."</p><p>"Oh, of course. Except, I was with Daisy just now."</p><p>Tino backed away.</p><p>"Yeah," continued Crowley, darkly. "I just fucked Daisy up against five different walls, given she's asked so nicely so many times, and then she did something to me I didn't know had been invented yet, and then the priest joined in and that was a thing, and then we all lay there listening to some other couple's eureka moment when I found myself thinking I recognise those dulcet tones. </p><p>Tino grimaced. "I am cute?"</p><p>"No."</p><p>"Loveable? Forgiveable? Naughty boy?"</p><p>"No. No. Yes," said Crowley. He put his hands on his hips like a teacher scolding a child. "You told him it was your birthday, didn't you. And you lied about your age, didn't you."</p><p>Tino dashed back inside, but he was pursued by a displeased demon, who deftly caught him by the elbow. </p><p>"What? I am old enough!" protested Tino, worried he was about to get his backside tanned for real. </p><p>"Not for him, you're not, you little..." Crowley took a deep breath. "Look. Want to double your money tonight?"</p><p>Tino frowned. "Of course."</p><p>"Do to me what you did to him and I'll give you two more gold coins. Three, given it's overtime."</p><p>"Done!" said the delighted Roman. Then he giggled. "You know he is golden man?"</p><p>Crowley sighed. "Yeah that doesn't surprise me. Come on then." </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>537 A.D. Kingdom of Camelot</b> <b></b></p><p>"It would be lying!" said Aziraphale to himself, for the ninth time that day. He was trying to scrub the mould off his armour, then with a little flounce that was most unbecoming of an angel, kicked the armour, and miracled it good as new. He sat on the end of his bed with a heavy huff. Maybe Crowley was right. Maybe, if they were just going to cancel each other out, they may as well cancel each other out the easy way.</p><p>But that did nothing for Aziraphale's guilt complex. That's what Crowley had called it once. Bloody demon. And how did he get that black armour anyway. Black Knight indeed. Aziraphale flopped back on the bed and imagined kicking Crowley's armour. Kicking Crowley in the shins. Throwing porridge at him. Throwing porridge all over him. And then grabbing his helmet and throwing it far away into the mist so that everyone can see his demon eyes.</p><p>Then he imagined Crowley being angry with him. He imagined Crowley stopping him. He imagined Crowley manhandling him. The Black Knight would not take too kindly to that behaviour. What a spoiled little cherub.</p><p>What would Crowley do? Would he murder him? Would he pin him down to stop him? </p><p>Aziraphale was becoming aware of his breathing. He sat up. He wasn't thinking about that demon. No.</p><p>However. He wanted Crowley to stop him. Not to hurt him, just to stop all of this. This insanity. These stupid blessings and temptations. This infernal damp. His own misery.</p><p>"This magical kingdom is fucking bollocks!" yelled Aziraphale at the room. He bit his lip. He was being very unangelic. And there was that guilt complex again. A vicious cycle of guilt, having guilt, then the expectation of doing something again that would make you have guilt, somehow gravitating towards trouble, getting into trouble, and being guilty. He just wanted it to stop. </p><p>The Black Knight, Crowley even, was the only other person on Earth that understood how crap this job can be. So Aziraphale found pen and paper and wrote to the Black Knight of Camelot, which mysteriously found its recipient. Possibly because Crowley had a mailbox that said 'The Black Knight - beware".</p><p>The letter said:</p><p>Without Prejudice</p><p>Dear Black Knight</p><p>I have given consideration to your proposal regarding the fair but moderate distribution of porridge, both hot and cold, for those in need. Your terms are agreeable. But remember, the Kingdom of Camelot does not negotiate with terrorists. </p><p>I look forward to drawing up a full arrangement. </p><p>Kind regards</p><p>Sir Aziraphale of the Table Round</p><p> </p><p>Aziraphale sent it posthaste, literally. He paid attention when every cell in his body felt better. Then he felt humbled as he realised that he, an angel, had thrown a tantrum. He said a little prayer, and flopped back down on his bed, falling into a restful sleep.</p><p>For a few hours. Shortly before dawn, he began to dream. He dreamt of a knock at the door. A tall man all in black come in from the mist outside - yes, his Black Knight. He'd come to see him - he heard about his bratty tantrum. But he wasn't bothered or disappointed. He gave the angel a pretend glare, as one might give to a naughty puppy, but then he removed his helmet and came and sat on the bed. He was concerned. He was caring. He touched Aziraphale's hair. And then they kissed, firmly, feverishly, endlessly. They had a full night of passion, with Aziraphale firmly tucked into Crowley's arms, warm and safe. And then more nights of passion, and days of riding out to run blessings and temptations that were essential, and days of conversation and wine when they were skiving like naughty school boys. An angel and a demon in love. And the Black Knight was a passionate lover and Sir Aziraphale belonged to him and was being thoroughly romanced right into the bed and the whole castle could hear them...</p><p>He woke up. His penis felt enormous and wet. </p><p>"Fuck," he whimpered. He rolled onto his front, and rubbed into the mattress, gingerly at first as he was rather sensitive. It took less than 15 seconds for him to reach orgasm. He thoroughly creamed his sheets. </p><p>After he cleaned everything up, including himself and his living quarters generally, he thought that perhaps he shouldn't have written to Crowley after all. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <b>1601, London</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Crowley knew what he black outfits did to the angel, especially if he arrived a couple of minutes late, strolling in, cool as a cucumber. More than a thousand years had passed with pleasantries, decency, respect, and a good few moments where Crowley <em>sensed</em> an erection. He was a demon after all. He could sense spooky things, and general discord, but he could also sense shame. Now, when that shame was mixed in with pheromones, plus notes of tension, he knew what a human was experiencing. When he picked that up from an angel who was a terrible liar, he was 100% sure. The squirming and blushing and adjustment of clothing was just a bonus. </p><p>Crowley and Aziraphale had done a great job of cancelling each other out during this time. The work that they couldn't get out of had involved some special arrangements for the sake of tick boxes, but also, ultimately, travel. Crowley didn't especially care for this, but it was when both he and Aziraphale had to ride out together to manage a massacre, that he detected that sexual shame scent/vibe. He glanced over, and sure enough, the angel was sporting an erection, and looking quite uncomfortable about it. Now, due to friction, this happens all the time, and it even happens to Crowley occasionally, but of course, it was happening in abundance to his orgasmic little angel. </p><p>Crowley then made up every excuse under the sun to go horse riding with Aziraphale. The erection was almost omnipresent. Crowley couldn't help but wonder how the angel managed this, or if he just accepted it as a constant, but Crowley noticed that each time the angel appeared less bothered by it. </p><p>The day came where Crowley needed to know if his suspicions were true. He wasn't sure what his suspicions were, but he was suspicious, so he arranged for Aziraphale to ride out to a particular place in the woods - alone. The demon however, was lying in wait, to see how the angel Aziraphale 'handled himself' once off the horse. Aziraphale arrived promptly, dismounted the horse and walked into the wood where he found the tree he had been told to bless. He then blessed it. Once he was done, he tried to rearrange himself. Crowley could see the bulge in the angel's crotch but Aziraphale merely turned back towards the horse. Crowley quickly followed, his instincts (and perhaps other parts of him) tingling. Sure enough, before Aziraphale left the wood, he dashed behind a particularly large tree trunk. Crowley moved as carefully as he could to get eyes on his angel, hearing the sound of material being unfastened and adjusted. The demon had a good view from a thicket. It was like being in the garden again. </p><p>And there, with his back to the tree trunk and his trousers around his ankles, was his angel, beating off like it might save the world. He had one hand cupping his balls and the other on his engorged penis, and his head was thrown back with the purest ecstasy that Crowley had seen in centuries. He was really going for it, and Crowley found his own hand on himself before he could think about it. Actually, he thought, why not? The next minute he was also beating off.</p><p>Aziraphale was making loud keening noises that were making Crowley want to cry with arousal. He was fast losing control himself, which was not part of the deal, but Aziraphale was taking his sweet time, slowing down just as climax approached, then building up again, then slowing again. Eventually Crowley decided to ignore him and just get off - the frustration was too much. He closed his eyes and went for it. But as he was approaching his own climax, he heard Aziraphale's moans become more and more high pitched. He opened his eyes again just in time to see Aziraphale spurt an arc of come onto the grass, and then continue to milk himself with breathy sighs. It made Crowley explode, and he had to miracle himself mute very quickly, because he was screaming, not to mention ejaculating all over his clothes. </p><p>He regained his senses to see and hear Aziraphale having a wee by the same tree. He watched as the angel apologised to the tree and performed some kind of miracle, which he assumed was 'taking his own mess with him'. What a naughty, and yet good, angel. Crowley sorted himself out double quick and stealthily approached Aziraphale's horse. That's when he got what he came for. </p><p>"Now," said Aziraphale to the horse once he'd got back in the saddle. "That's taken care of. At least for now. It will no doubt return before we get back, but that's something to look forward to, and at least it won't happen when I'm sitting on you. Nice horsey." </p><p>He patted the side of the horse and trotted away. </p><p> </p><p>So Aziraphale was having quite the sex life and trying to avoid coming on his steed. Damn. This was about the time that Crowley thought he would be hilarious if he made up a blessing in Edinburgh for Heaven to assign to Aziraphale. Even more so given it meant Aziraphale could take care of his temptation with that stupid shepherd. Then, Aziraphale could be orgasmic for days, and come in his pants, or cream a horse, or whatever. Oh, his poor oversensitive little angel. Crowley grinned very evilly indeed. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is filthy. Contains mild and consensual spanking, and a lot of desperate dry humping. Very mild puppy play element, and light sub/dom (Crowley as Dom). Very playful.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>1793, Paris </b>
</p><p>Aziraphale’s stomach growled as he waited patiently for Crowley to rescue him. The day was really getting on, however, and he was starting to feel uneasy. The thought of the swashbuckling demon showing up at the last minute made the angel glow. It was a sexy plan. He’d been excited about it for days, and today, half-hard for hours. He pressed his thighs together. All those years on horseback taught him how to flex himself into an orgasm, provided his cock was rubbing against something. </p><p>He was wearing his most favourite shiny suit and feeling spiffy. A useful thing about his outfit, though, was it had multiple frills and layers, hiding a multitude of sins. He made sure no guards were coming and continued to press his thighs together, thinking he might help himself to a little ‘happy’ while he was waiting. </p><p>What would Crowley think of him now, locked up in the Bastille? Would he be cross? He might like it if Crowley were cross. He’d seen Crowley being cross with others sometimes - the children onboard the arc, for example, if they hadn’t listened to him. Or a human being particularly cruel. And occasionally, with his angel, if his angel were foolish enough to put himself in danger. </p><p>Aziraphale discovered this when trying to reach a very pretty flower just outside a tower window. It was all pink and golden, and just beyond his reach, so he’d gotten onto the ledge. He almost fell, but Crowley had been coming to meet him to discuss plans for a double temptation weekend, and caught him just in time before he plummeted to his death.</p><p>He had dragged the angel back in through the window. He had pointed his finger in the angel’s face. He had shouted very loudly at him, a lot, and told him he was a stupid bloody idiot, and what would he do if he didn’t have his friend? Then he told him if he ever disregarded his life again he’d be in very big trouble with a very angry demon, and that this was a very serious threat, and Aziraphale would be a very sorry angel. </p><p>Aziraphale had remained meek throughout the telling off, head hung. It was a bit of fright, losing his footing, so Crowley had a point. There would have been paperwork. And Crowley… well, he was ever so masterful, and dominant. It was breathtaking. But whilst the demon was having a deep sigh, Aziraphale did pluck up the courage to ask him what he would do if he made a mistake like that again. </p><p>The pointing finger and the glowering came back, and Crowley warned him in a low growl. “You won’t do anything like that again, unless you want me to…” He grimaced and didn’t finish the sentence. Aziraphale desperately wanted him to. </p><p>“I understand,” the angel said very sweetly, twirling an ankle. “I’ll understand if you’re cross. And if you feel the need to…to punish me for my thoughtlessness. Sometimes I just don’t think.” He added a little twinkle in his eyes with an innocent glance upwards, and then looked at Crowley.</p><p>Crowley was still scowling. “Well. Let that be a lesson to you,” he said, not completely sure there had even been a lesson, and trying to ignore how docile his usually wayward friend was being. It was strangely compelling.  </p><p> </p><p>In his cell, Aziraphale squirmed in his seat. He trusted Crowley. Even if Crowley was very angry with him, and yelled at him, and even if he punished him. As long as he actually did rescue him, and didn’t leave him to be beheaded. </p><p>Aziraphale kept clenching and unclenching, his prick now standing up and rubbing against the front of his knee breeches. They were a light woollen material and were providing a good friction. His manacled hands rested in his lap and he pressed them to his crotch. The front flap was already a little damp on the inside. He visualised coming up the inside of it. He imagined his Black Knight showing up any moment, telling him off, releasing him, and carrying him out of there over his shoulder. He imagined his Black Knight finding a private room for them, and dropping Aziraphale onto some soft hay or linens. He imagined his Black Knight flipping him onto his front, and spanking him for being foolish. He imagined his Black Knight deciding to have his way with him, to teach him a lesson.  </p><p>Aziraphale vigorously pressed, clenched and rubbed, then enjoyed every undulation as he spilled inside his breeches. He even allowed himself a nice long groan. It’s not like anyone would have heard him over the din outside. </p><p>He wiggled contentedly as he caught his breath. He was very wet. Thankfully he had multiple layers on so if anything was seeping through, no one would see. He thought about what it would be like to show Crowley what he’d done. He’d wondered for a very long time if Crowley had arranged for various horseback journeys over hundreds of years just to mess with him. Another angel had noticed the amount of riding, and mentioned that demons often encourage activities that stimulate lust. So Aziraphale casually mentioned to Crowley, after returning from Edinburgh, that he’d had an embarrassing mishap just outside of Newcastle after days of ‘provocation’. Crowley had gone bright red in the face and stopped breathing, but his eyes had really lit up. </p><p>Ever since then, there was a more flirtatious element to their interactions, or so Aziraphale thought. Alas, nothing had progressed much from there, and the angel was desperate to see if he could push the demon to reveal his passions. </p><p>The angel was just wondering if he could get away with a cleaning miracle when he heard someone approaching. His heart sank when he saw it was the executioner. Where was his Black Knight?</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>Calais, midnight</strong>
</p><p>They were giggling as they made it down the gangplank, dressed as they were like two French revolutionaries possibly celebrating a recent beheading. They staggered, arm in arm, faces flushed, and very proud of themselves. They were two respectable middle-aged gentlemen who’d been drinking for two days, all the way from Paris, and were capable of being completely sober, of course. </p><p>The boat was bobbing about like anything - the sea rather rough, so the angel and the demon stood still for a moment to register this.</p><p>“Are we swaying, or is the boat swaying?” asked Crowley, peering at the vessel that was moving dramatically up and down and well as lurching side to side. Then he watched with confusion as the gangplank tried to keep up with the boat. </p><p>“Is it raining, or have I wet myself?” asked Aziraphale before chortling loudly, excessively pleased with his very funny joke. Crowley gave him a deadly look. “It isn’t raining Aziraphale.”</p><p>“I know! It’s… I was joking, you silly fool!” </p><p>They tried to walk in a straight line to prove to the watching sailors that they could walk in a straight line. This had the effect of zigzagging, running against one’s will, and collapsing into giggles until they finally made it aboard. </p><p>“Stay below,” said a steward gruffly, as they continued to stagger around the boat. Eventually they found the cabin they’d been assigned. </p><p>Monsieur et Madame Crowley</p><p>“Oh no,” said Aziraphale. “I don’t want to have to pretend to be your wife again.”</p><p>“Get in,” replied Crowley, giving the angel a little push.</p><p>The cabin was larger than most of the cabins, but it was still very small. The bunk was a single bunk with an extra couple of inches, and the rest of the space was the floor (around the same size as the bunk), and a cabinet. A wall-mounted candle lamp glowed.</p><p>Crowley immediately hopped onto the bunk. “The world needs to stop spinning. Make it stop, Aziraphale!”</p><p>The angel, who’d been eyeing the cabin with disdain, raised his hand as if to snap his fingers, but the demon just caught it in time. “That was a joke,” he explained. “And no frivolous miracles.”</p><p>Naturally, the angel pouted at the admonishment. He went and sat on the cabinet. “I don’t see why we have to travel like this. Can’t I have another one of the cabins? And why on this old ship?"</p><p>Crowley exhaled dramatically. “We talked about this over your third crêpe,” he said. “You’ve been a very naughty angel, and I’ve been a very naughty demon, and now we have to get back to London without Heaven or Hell knowing you were ever here or that I actually rescued you and then forgot to leave Paris on time, so no fancy cabins or galleons, or being seen. We travel by night.”</p><p>“I still don’t see why I can’t have my own cabin.”</p><p>Crowley sat up and glared at his angel. “Because all the cabins are full of other reprobates, and getting this one at the last minute was hard enough.”</p><p>“Oh,” said Aziraphale quietly, swinging his legs. “I see. Sorry.”</p><p>Crowley lay back down. His head was clearing a little bit now. He was thinking about wine again. But the boat was moving so fiercely, it might be better not to. </p><p>The air filled with shouts and a whistle was blown. The vessel started to move purposefully. They were away. There was a twinkly sound in the cabin. Crowley sat back up to see Aziraphale on his feet, back in his frilly, ivory outfit, and admiring himself.</p><p>"Aziraphale!" he scolded. "No frivolous miracles!"</p><p>"Oh! Oops! Silly me! But I can't be expected to return to England dressed in such depressing clothes, looking like that dreadful man."</p><p>"All right but no more miracles. I'm saving one for the morning so we look fresh and dapper when leave the boat. But until then, nothing."</p><p>"Okay. I'll be good."</p><p>"You look like a birthday present."</p><p>"Oh, thank you," said the angel warmly.</p><p>Crowley sighed. Of course Aziraphale would take that as a compliment. </p><p>“Now, if we can’t perform any miracles, does that mean we won’t have anything to nibble, or wash the nibbles down with?”</p><p>Crowley gave him his best withering glare, feeling beaten, and clicked his fingers. A bottle of red and some bread and cheese appeared on top of the cabinet. </p><p>“Ah!” said the angel, opening the wine immediately. Crowley supposed that no matter where he was in the world, Hell wouldn’t find anything strange about him miracling up a bottle of wine. Besides, he wasn’t sure he was going to make it through the next few hours in a small cabin with an overactive angel. </p><p>The motion of the boat was lulling him to sleep. Perhaps he could sleep through all of it. Perhaps Aziraphale could join him on the bunk. Angels tended to be nice and warm. Aziraphale could keep him warm...</p><p> “It’s been a wonderful day,” said the angel, pouring the wine. “Everything worked out perfectly. Although I really was starting to worry you weren’t going to appear!”</p><p>Silence thudded throughout the cabin as the boat started to rise and fall dramatically.</p><p>“What?” asked Crowley, with deadly calm. </p><p>Aziraphale, who was keeping the wine safe, froze. He might have sobered up just then. Damn the wine and his foggy head. What did he just say? His spine tingled, and he felt acutely vulnerable. He decided now would be a good time to use his wide, innocent cherubic eyes again, and turned around to look at coquettishly at Crowley, who was simmering with displeasure. </p><p>"Aziraphale, did you do this on purpose?"</p><p>"No?" came a quiet squeak. He was squirming and twisting his hands. "I only came to have crêpes , and I had no idea what would happen."</p><p>"So you didn't know I'd be in the area?"</p><p>Aziraphale bit his lip and shook his head. “No, Crowley. Of course not.” He had wanted to get into a little bit of trouble, but this felt like a lot of trouble. </p><p>Crowley got to his feet. "Angel, if you're lying to me I'll..." the demon wagged his finger and tried to remain stern, whilst also thinking about what he would do. After all, he was quite impressed. </p><p>"Not lying," whined Aziraphale, still fidgeting. He was met with a devastating yellow glare. "Oh dear," he said, shifting from foot to foot. "Well I might have told a little white lie. Just a bit."</p><p>Crowley raised his eyebrows and waited with an intensity that Aziraphlae would have enjoyed if he weren’t so anxious. </p><p>"I might have sort of known that there might have been a demon gathering at Notre Dame."</p><p>"Right..." prompted Crowley, wanting to hear more. </p><p>"So I might have known you might have been there."</p><p>"<em> ’ziraphale </em>..." it was a final warning.</p><p>"Oh all right!" exclaimed the angel, flapping his hands. "Yes I knew you were there, and I knew if I went there, word would get to you that I was there, and I thought I might get questioned for not being French, possibly locked up, and I knew you'd come for me and rescue me, and I thought we might see some of Paris, and yes I told a lot of lies but only because I thought it best you didn't know I'd set things up so you didn't get into trouble with Hell."</p><p>When Crowley spoke, he shouted. "I will be in trouble with Hell for rescuing an angel, which you made me do!"</p><p>Aziraphale pouted. "Well you haven't been around lately!"</p><p>"So you got locked up in the Bastille to get my attention?"</p><p>The angel thought about that for a moment. It sounded remarkably childish and bratty. And unfortunately spot on. He wished he was more drunk.</p><p>"Um," he said nervously. "Oh I've been ghastly, haven't I. Are you very cross?"</p><p>Crowley steadily got closer to him, somehow keeping his footing despite the lurching of the boat. </p><p>“Oh dear,” said Aziraphale. “I’m so dreadfully sorry. It was wrong of me. I see that now. Can you forgive me?”</p><p>“Maybe one day, some time after I’ve dealt with you!”</p><p>“Dealt with me how? Are you going to tell on me? Are you going to…?’ He started inching away as Crowley got closer. He wasn’t frightened because Crowley was too controlled to alarm him, but he knew his demon very well, and he knew he was in trouble. The smacked bottom kind of trouble. A part of him was nervous about that. A bigger part of him desperately wanted to fall into the demon’s arms and let Crowley punish him however he liked. </p><p>“That was very naughty, angel,” said Crowley. “And dangerous. And stupid.”</p><p>“I know, I know,” agreed Aziraphale urgently. “And I understand if you… see fit to correct me.” </p><p>He shot the coyest look he could muster at Crowley. The demon looked his angel up and down. He was almost certainly playing him in some way. But Crowley didn’t care. He wasn’t drunk enough or warm enough to let it go. </p><p>“C’mere,” he said firmly, giving the angel the chance to come to him. He held out his hand in an offer to steady the angel through the movements of the boat.  </p><p>“I am here,” replied Aziraphale with a cute shrug, pretending he hadn’t understood and aiming to ensure what he hoped was going to be an actual spanking.</p><p>“You little brat,” chided Crowley. “I’m going to do something I should have done a long time ago when you were just a cherub. Come here!” </p><p>Aziraphale’s heart skipped a bit. Crowley was going to put his hands on him. Touch him. Manhandle him. The demon growled and snatched him by the arm, then carefully led him over to the bed. Aziraphale let out a little squawk as he was tugged, losing even more of his centre of gravity between the boat and the demon. He struggled as they got to the bunk.</p><p>“I know you won’t do it!” called the angel. “You’re a nice demon! A kind demon!”</p><p>Crowley ignored this, sat on the bunk, and gave the angel a firm tug. </p><p>Aziraphale toppled over the slender thighs with a sharp intake of breath. Before he could protest, Crowley had lifted up his layers of coats and was smacking his trouser-clad bum. His <em> bottom </em>. And he’d wanted Crowley to do that for centuries, because he wanted to disappear into someone else if only for a few moments. And he couldn’t feel guilty while he was being punished. Crowley was in charge now. Aziraphale was helpless - surely. It stung, and the smacks kept coming but they weren’t too terrible thanks to his breeches, and he was stuck upside down so couldn’t do a thing about it which was actually relaxing, and a white hot peace was filling him up, all through his body, and into his finally quiet mind. Oh sweet surrender.  </p><p>The sting became a warm, throbbing ache, like a continuous tone that drowned everything else out, except for the scolding he was getting at the same time. </p><p>“Don’t you ever do anything that stupid again! You could have been discorporated! And telling all those fibs and frolicking about in the least inconspicuous thing you could have worn. So foolish! You’re a very silly little angel who doesn’t know what he’s dealing with. You’ve always pushed your luck, ever since you were a cherub, going from one pleasure to the next knowing all the while you shouldn’t be doing it. The next time you get smacked it will be Gabriel because I will tell him how devious you are, so he can stop that behavior. Otherwise you will get caught <em> lying </em> to Heaven and Hell and then you will be plunged into a pit of burning sulphur! Naughty angel!”</p><p>He landed a few harder smacks that really hit home, and Aziraphale cried out. Crowley stopped. The only sound in the cabin was them breathing hard. The angel squirmed a little bit, the throb in his bottom really pounding, and he couldn’t help but emit a soft whimper. Nevertheless, he felt comforted and warm, and he clung to Crowley’s knees and rested his head in an act of contrition. The boat felt calmer again. It was like it was rocking him. And Crowley - Crowley was stroking the blonde hair.</p><p>Aziraphale’s head was swimming. There were no worrisome thoughts. He felt like he was floating, held in place by his trusted friend. He’d finally got Crowley to smack his bottom, which was a very private place. Everything tingled. And he’d never felt safer in his life. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” murmured Aziraphale, never wanting to move. </p><p>“Should have done this centuries ago,’ Crowley muttered. </p><p>“I know. I deserved it. You were right to do it.”</p><p>“They set you up to fail. I told you this. You have to be wiser. It’s dangerous. If I have to do this to make you wake up, then...”</p><p>“I know.”</p><p>“Brat.”</p><p>“I know.” The angel shifted. “You can do it any time you like. I think I need it sometimes.”</p><p>Crowley gave him a light pat on the bottom, and Aziraphale gently swung his legs. “Can we finish the wine now?” he asked.</p><p>The demon pulled him up. He was like a weighted ragdoll. So pliant. Crowley really did wish he’d done this sooner. So soft. The demon kissed a flushed cheek. “Are you going to be a good angel now?”</p><p>Aziraphale smiled sweetly and nodded. “I’ll try,” he said. And Crowley melted. What could he ever do without Aziraphale. It suddenly felt imperative that they should both protect themselves at all costs. What they had here, on earth, and between them, was richer than anything else in creation. They looked at each other for a long time, then kissed. It just happened. But then it continued to happen. Warm lips, soft pressure, and definitely hunger. </p><p>Aziraphale became a little demanding with his tongue, and Crowley pulled away.</p><p>“Oi,” he chided. He glanced down, but the many layers of clothing on the angel told him nothing. He started pulling and lifted them until he had a clear view of Aziraphale’s crotch, which as he suspected, was all about the tented breeches. </p><p>“Oopsie,” breathed Aziraphale.  </p><p>“If you enjoy me disciplining you, Aziraphale, I will have to find another way of disciplining you.”</p><p>“But!” said Aziraphale quickly. “I’m only naughty so you’ll discipline me just like that.”</p><p>Crowley couldn’t take it anymore. He growled, and pulled the coats and layers out of the way until the angel was down to his white shirt and breeches. He cupped Aziraphale's groin. It was hot to the touch, a mesmerising heat, and the prick on the other side of the flap was rock hard. The angel immediately started rubbing against the heal of the demon’s hand, and Crowley kissed him again, open mouthed, tongue forceful. Aziraphale let the tongue thrash around in his mouth. He had the feeling he was about to be devoured, and by a demon. The thought made him squeak, and he was aware of becoming somewhat moist where Crowley’s hand was. </p><p>Next thing Aziraphale knew, he was deposited none too gently on his back on the bunk, and Crowley was climbing on top of him.</p><p>“Oh good <em>Lord</em>,” said Aziraphale, wriggling around, and for once not hoping to paint the inside of his trousers any time soon. He and Crowley were… being naughty. Together. He felt his cock leak quite a bit. He whimpered anxiously.</p><p>“You all right?” whispered Crowley, who was all all fours above the angel. </p><p>“Um, I’m, I’m,” began Aziraphale, getting wetter all the time and cupping himself in case it was visible. “I’m…” </p><p>“Wet?” said Crowley with a sordid smirk, eyes gleaming.</p><p>The angel nodded.</p><p>“So am I,” said Crowley. He took Aziraphale’s hand and placed it on his own warm hardness behind his trousers. His eyes suggested some fear, some doubt, as the angel started to feel around. Chubby fingers found a way inside the black breeches to find an answering erection, hot balls, and quite a bit of precum. The same fingers then gently squeezed the demon’s shaft, and he moaned softly as his hips bucked.</p><p>Aziraphale quickly withdrew his hand, not quite ready to be stimulating a demon, but he watched as Crowley, still above him on all fours, rocked his hips back and forth, his face a picture of pleasure. </p><p>The angel’s hand returned to gently cup Crowley’s crotch. It wasn’t so bad if they kept the clothing on, he felt. </p><p>Aziraphale rubbed himself with one hand and Crowley with the other. The demon was gently canting into the pressure, trying to maintain control. He opened his eyes to see his breathless angel, squirming underneath him.</p><p>“Aziraphale,” said Crowley weakly. His hips jerked and Aziraphale withdrew his hand again.</p><p>“Not so fast, Mr Crowley,” teased Aziraphale. “How about you, um, come here?”</p><p>He held his arms out, and Crowley thought it was going to die. He lowered himself slowly until they were flush together in a warm embrace. They pressed together and kissed again furiously. It was mere seconds until they were dry humping one another. Aziraphale opened his legs a little so Crowley could slot between them. The demon kissed his angel’s neck, his face, his hair, tongued his mouth, and urgently rubbed himself against Aziraphale’s crotch. It was clumsy, and desperate, and Aziraphale adored it. </p><p>“Oh I’m gonna come!” said Crowley. “I need to come. Angel…”</p><p>“Do it,” said Aziraphale, pulled Crowley harder against him, lifting his hips. He was close himself but couldn’t quite get the angle he needed, and by now, all he could think about was the long, thick shaft sliding against him through their clothing pressing against his own smaller erection. The movements were becoming frantic. He thought about Crowley, his dominant Black Knight, coming in his pants, and nearly fainted. So filthy. So forbidden.  </p><p>Crowley held him close, buried his face in the angel’s neck, and rutted like a beast, gasping and keening. He came with a startled cry, then another, then another, as he felt hot jet after hot jet soak his breeches, and he eked it all out as much as he could, rolling his hips over and over, before finally becoming boneless. </p><p>Aziraphale could feel it seeping onto him. It was warm and trickling. He didn’t want to start thinking, so he immediately rolled Crowley to the side, and manoeuvred them so that he was on top. </p><p>“You’re wet,” said Crowley, dopily, looking at the dark stain on the angel's crotch.</p><p>“That’s your fault,” said Aziraphale, adjusting his breeches.</p><p>“You like it.”</p><p>Aziraphale fixed him with cold blue eyes. “Yes, I do,” he said, feeling every nerve in his body crackle. “Now if you don’t mind, I need to come.” </p><p>Crowley gazed at him, adoring him. Brilliant angel. He opened his long legs to allow for a plump angel to thrust comfortably on top of him, but Aziraphale, quite wild by this point, got Crowley’s left leg between his own and arranged himself so he could rub against the firm, lean thigh. He felt the damp material of his breeches press against his erection. It was perfect. He wiggled his hips and lay on Crowley, as if cuddling up to him. He looked up and Crowley who was staring back at him with delight. </p><p>Crowley was spellbound. An angel, humping a demon’s leg? That was a fantasy he didn’t even know he had. He stroked the angel’s hair as if giving permission, unable to resist putting an arm around Aziraphale to support him. The blue eyes clouded over then closed tight, and he started to grind. He was out of control almost instantly, speeding up to an unstoppable mindless rut.</p><p>Crowley wasn’t sure if it made a difference if he was there or not. He may as well have been an armchair. Not that he minded. Aziraphale was panting, until he was grunting and panting, and where he was rubbing, Crowley’s leg was getting both bruised and damp. But then the blue eyes opened again and they were so full of love, so full of loyalty, and so full of adoring submission, that Crowley took his resting prick out and started stroking himself. It came back to him instantly as he did, and he knew he was going to come for a second time very soon, and the angel could do anything to his leg - he could come on it, he could pee on it, and it would be fine. He didn’t care. His angel could do anything he wanted. </p><p>“Oh fuck, angel,” said Crowley.</p><p>Aziraphale noticed what Crowley was doing, slowed down, and twisted his body to lick the tip of the demon’s penis.</p><p>“AH FUCK ANGEL!” </p><p>The angel licked it again, took the tip in his mouth, and gave it a suck while Crowley was stroking rapidly, then returned to intently rubbing himself off to the sound of fapping.</p><p>“That’s naughty,” said Crowley flashing his eyes, and holding Aziraphale close to him. “That’s not food. Come on. Come for me. I want to feel you come for me.” Then he whispered in the angel’s ear, very tenderly. “Be a good puppy.” He kissed him softly on the cheek. </p><p>The angel groaned, then pressed himself hard into Crowley’s thigh, leaking as he did, and resumed the pace. Crowley could feel the precum spreading on his thigh. He was watching his angel rub into it, until the tubby body appeared to take over entirely, an angel humping like an animal. </p><p>The vision undid him. Crowley ejaculated all over his hand and gave an involuntary shout. Aziraphale saw his expression, and came very loudly, writhing endlessly against his demon and emptying himself into his breeches. </p><p>Crowley felt a rush of sloppy heat on his leg. “Fucking hell, angel,” he breathed. </p><p>They were breathing hard for a while, until Aziraphale, being a polite angel, moved to the side so he was not crushing his demon, and propped himself up on his side. </p><p>Crowley’s leg was a bit numb. He looked at his wet, stained thigh. </p><p>“Bad puppy,” he said. </p><p>“Spank me,” said Aziraphale. </p><p>The demon gave a flirty, lopsided grin, and found himself unfastening a button on Aziraphale’s breeches. The angel simply watched as Crowley unfastened the other one and carefully pulled down the flap. </p><p>“Blimey. It’s like you poured double cream in your pants.” </p><p>The angel blushed. “There’s always… quite a lot.”</p><p>“Tut tut tut. Can’t you do something about that?” asked Crowley as he fastened the flap back up.</p><p>Aziraphale gave him a mischievous grin. “I expect so.” </p><p>Crowley shook his head. Of course. Why would he change that if he loved it so much? He leaned in and kissed him. Another French kiss, but slower. They played with their tongues until laughter interrupted. </p><p>Crowley smirked, taking in the vision of his dishevelled angel. “Let’s get that wine and cheese,” he said.</p><p>“Oh good idea! I’m starving!”</p><p> </p><p>They chomped away happily on the bread and the wine went down pretty fast. </p><p> “If you were a dessert, you would be a hot Crème brûlée,” said Crowley, once they'd finished eating.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“One or two firm taps, and then there you are, like warm creamy vanilla, happy to be lapped up.”</p><p>Aziraphale looked away shyly.</p><p>Crowley spoke very tenderly. “It relaxes you, doesn't it. A little spanking. Makes you feel safe.”</p><p>“With the right person.”</p><p>“Hmmm,” intoned Crowley. “Or right demon. Strange kind of therapy. But I’m in if you are. Bloody love doing it.”</p><p>They cuddled down together despite the small bed and kissed drowsily for a good hour, the only stillness onboard. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>The boat gave a lurch, and a cold draft entered the cabin. The candle snuffed out and the room was pitch-black. The shouts of sailors and crashing of waves felt a little closer. </p><p>“Cold,” muttered Crowley. </p><p>“Well you’re lucky you’ve got me,” said Aziraphale. He hopped off the bunk and checked the cabinet. Sure enough, there was a blanket. </p><p>“Here, let’s get under this.”</p><p>But he paused and thought before getting back in the bunk, the boat rolling wildly under his feet.</p><p>“What is it?” asked Crowley. “Hurry up. I’m cold.”</p><p>“I need to go up and, you know...” He wiggled, then held himself through his breeches so Crowley could guess.</p><p>The demon sighed. “And do what? Get swept out to sea by a wave? Roll down the deck and wet your pants in front of the sailors? Trust me, angel, you don’t want to go up there.”</p><p>“But I need to…”</p><p>“Hey,” he pulled him close and kissed him. “You can’t go up there. There’s nowhere to go. It’s sea-water, other people’ piss, and probably death.”</p><p>Aziraphale looked around the cabin. There was no space, no privacy, no chamber pot. He’d have to wee on the wooden floor, but the motion of the boat meant there was no way he’d be able to wee straight anyway. He looked at Crowley.</p><p>“I’m sure you can hold it, Aziraphale. Not much longer now. Wind’s been behind us the whole way. And it might calm down soon. Come back into bed.” He patted the mattress.</p><p>There was a reason Crowley was good with temptations, and they both knew it. He was just terrible. He knew what he was doing. Aziraphale climbed back into the bunk with the blanket, and they cuddled up together in the tiny bed, as close as they could be. It was lovely and warm.</p><p>“Let me know if you want me to hold it for you,” teased Crowley.</p><p>Aziraphale’s pout was visible in the dark. So Crowley kissed those sticking out lips, holding his angel in his arms as he did so. They kissed and kissed, nuzzled and cuddled, and Aziraphale melted into the demon's arms as the last of his worries ebbed away. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning: Very light (and bad) rape role play and suggestion of rape fantasy (as victim)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>70 years is no time at all when you’re an angel, fallen or otherwise. Whenever they could, Aziraphale and Crowley thoroughly enjoyed their newfound dynamic. The heat between them was the best place on earth (let alone Heaven or Hell) and they fiercely guarded their clandestine friendship. </p><p>They lied to their head offices, met on work trips, played their games, and got each other off. They weren’t having "sex", of course, because that would be a bridge too far. But mutual stimulation was just… healthy. Good for you. Good for the soul. If you still had one. </p><p>So they did that, whenever the opportunity presented itself, for 70 years. Sort of the equivalent of a lost weekend. </p><p> </p><p>And then came the day when Hastur made a house call to a manor house in Hampshire. This was a house that Aziraphale was blessing while Crowley was supposed to be tempting the second eldest daughter to cut off the hair of her bigger and more beautiful sister. However, Aziraphale arranged for the family to holiday in Devon while he ‘took care of’ the property so the demon couldn't do his naughty deed, and Crowley travelled there to find his angel waiting for him in the master bedroom. </p><p>“Where’s the sister?” asked Crowley.</p><p>“She left,” answered Aziraphale coyly. He was sprawled across the bed, on his belly. </p><p>“You’ve thwarted me again, angel.”</p><p>“I know. Aren’t I just terrible. I expect you'll be furious with me and I’ll be punished.”</p><p>Crowley smiled darkly. “Oh you will. I intend to thrash you, and then have my way with you!”</p><p>"Oh no," said Aziraphale, stretching out so he was spread eagled. He teasingly humped the bed. </p><p>Crowley quickly clambered behind the angel. He lightly tapped Aziraphale's thigh and began simulating very animalistic sexual intercourse. He put his hand on the back of Aziraphale's neck to hold him in place. "I warned you I would have my way with you, <em>foolish one</em>."</p><p>Aziraphale ground against the mattress for real. "Oh, please, I'm sorry. Please be gentle with me! Don't hurt me!"</p><p>Crowley leaned forward to hiss in his ear. "I mean to have you," he said, gripping the angel's hips and mock dry humping him. "Keep still or it will hurt."</p><p>Aziraphale whimpered, feeling his underwear dampen. But he heard giggling.</p><p>The angel turned to look at the sniggering demon, and grinned broadly.</p><p>"Good to see you, Aziraphale."</p><p>"Good to see you too, Crowley." He bit his lip. Crowley could see he was a little pink and breathless.</p><p>"Uh oh," said the demon. "You liked that, didn't you?"</p><p>“Oh,” said Aziraphale with a sweet chuckle rubbing the back of his neck. “Well. I think I might like it if you had your way with me.”</p><p>Crowley stared at him. "You mean, me doing that, to you, but with...inside you, and me doing it, um, to you?"</p><p>The angel nodded. </p><p>“Oh blimey. You're serious.” He smiled with pure wonder. </p><p>The angel nodded again. "I would like that. I mean, it's not so bad, is it? Physical love. I am an angel."</p><p>"Yeah but I'm a demon and I'm not supposed to... oh hang on." He thought about it. If he, a demon, fucked an angel, that would be an evil thing to do, surely. </p><p>"I mean, if it helps," said Aziraphale indifferently. "We could pretend that you were..."</p><p>"That I was...?"</p><p>"Raping me. Forcing me. Claiming me." His breath trembled on the last phrase.</p><p>Crowley's eyes appeared to be somewhat fuzzy. </p><p>Aziraphale shrugged. "Taking me."</p><p>Crowley slowly crawled on all fours over to Aziraphale, and kissed him tenderly for a long, long minute. They pulled apart, and Crowley looked at his angel as soulfully as he could. "I couldn't do that, angel," he said. </p><p>"No, of course not," said Aziraphale, quite embarrassed and little flustered. "But that would be our cover story. If we needed one. Or just a game. Forget it!"</p><p>He thought he was going to die there and then, and went to leave the bed, but Crowley stopped him and kissed him again. "Lie down," he said. Aziraphale did so, his head spinning far too much to question a direct order. He leaned back on the bed, and Crowley was immediately above him. They done that before, all kinds of hugging and rubbing and feeling around with the lights off. But this felt different. </p><p>A demonic miracle removed their clothing from the waist down, revealing two very interested erections. </p><p>Aziraphale squeaked. </p><p>"However you want us to fit together, we can," said Crowley. "We can miracle it together. Any way you like." He took the angel in his arms, pressing on him, and they both groaned as they felt flesh on flesh. Aziraphale lifted his knees instinctively, and Crowley felt he was about to fall for the second time. He was leaking and straining, and thinking only of being inside his angel. </p><p>“Crowley!” came a gruff shout from just outside the door. “Where are you? Change of plan.” It was Hastur's voice and Hastur's footsteps on the landing. </p><p>There was only time to miracle the angel and all evidence of him into a closet. Crowley however, was kneeling on the bed, half naked, with his (thankfully shrinking) cock in his hand. </p><p>"What you doing?" asked Hastur with a sneer as he appeared in the doorway.</p><p>"Pissing on their bed," said Crowley.</p><p>"Ha! Good idea," said Haster. "Anyway, apparently this family is just too happy, and went on holiday, happily, so we have instructions to burn this house down. Didn't wanna miss it."</p><p>Crowley looked at him in shock. </p><p>"You gonna piss on it, or what?"</p><p>"Not much point now, is there," said Crowley, scrambling off the bed and picking up his discarded clothing.</p><p>"Do you always strip down for a piss?" asked Hastur, his face twisting in puzzlement.</p><p>"Sometimes."</p><p>"Right. I've got some dynamite. Let's go."</p><p>"Gimme one sec," said Crowley, indicating his clothing. Hastur rolled his eyes and left the room muttering. </p><p>The demon miracled his clothing back on and dashed to the closet, where a very disappointed Aziraphale was standing. </p><p>"You have to get out of here. He's going to burn it down."</p><p>"And you're going to help him?" asked the angel petulantly.</p><p>"Don't exactly have a choice, angel!" Crowley hissed, taking Aziraphale by the elbow and ushering him out. "You can escape through that room."</p><p>The angel pouted, but followed the instructions with a sullen goodbye glance. </p><p>Crowley's heart was thumping. They'd almost been caught, naked, together, on a bed. And now he was going to have to destroy the house that Aziraphale had just blessed. It did feel a little bit like they were being punished. </p><p>Aziraphale was convinced God sent Hastur because they’d been fraternising. And Crowley became convinced that it would be all too easy for him to be suspected, then executed. All of which amounted to a chaotic spat in St James Park in 1862. So Aziraphale became celibate again, putting his energies into the developing his bookshop and being a good angel, and Crowley went to bed for 79 years. Sort of like a long lost weekend. </p><p>There were both immensely pleased to see each other in the church in the Blitz in 1941.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Brace yourself - Graphic sex.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>1941, London</b>
  
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lift home?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he did care. Every bit of love Aziraphale had ever known returned to him threefold in that moment. And then a little bit more as he got into Crowley’s beautiful Bentley and felt like he </span>
  <em>
    <span>belonged </span>
  </em>
  <span>for the first time in years. They got to Aziraphale's bookshop, and the angel was delighted to see that the demon didn't actively hate it. In fact, there were strong suggestions of a sort of instant fondness for it. He seemed happy to see a plate of chocolate biscuits that had clearly been miracled due to wartime rationing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This would be a nice place to hide," said Crowley. "Till the end of this one. I hate wars."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went to walk towards the sofa, but grimaced. He hobbled gingerly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale felt a terrible pang of guilt. “Are your feet okay? I can miracle them better for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley shrugged. “I took care of it,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really am sorry. I feel dreadfully foolish. Not my forte, is it, ambushing Nazis.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley looked at him fondly. “Ten out of ten for effort, Aziraphale. But I’d like you to maybe keep out of that particular fight, if you can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale blushed at the choice of words. They felt tenderly authoritative. “You’d like me to? Sounds like an instruction.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley sauntered to him. “You need instructions.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale wiggled. “No I don’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes you do. Otherwise you get into trouble, or lost, or... just into trouble, really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale hung his head. He was already feeling sheepish. Now he felt he’d been admonished, albeit very gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you angry with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Course not,” said Crowley, stuffing a biscuit in his mouth. “Just making sure my angel’s on his best behaviour. And he’s not going to do anything silly again. Or at least not for another century or whatever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How would you know?” His eyes were dancing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hear things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Even in your sleep?” It was petulant. He knew that. But he couldn’t help it. He did try not to pout. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley came closer to him, eyes narrowing playfully. “Yes. as it happens. You were a good angel for such a long time. That dance club kept you busy, didn’t it. But I knew you’d get into some nonsense or other given it’s a world war. I heard about WW1, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The war? Well it was quite a big one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not the war, you idiot. You. Trying to get involved. Pretending you were a colonel to change orders.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you hear about that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some demons were talking about a bloody stupid angel who thought the humans wouldn’t notice if he started issuing orders.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale wiggled again. “Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And how you barely got out alive when the British army noticed you were an imposter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And yet that didn’t put you off trying to con the Third Reich.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” He stopped fighting the pout, and went for chastened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley gave him a theatrical glare of disapproval. “How many more times do I have to rescue you, angel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale felt very guilty now. He looked up at the demon like a scolded puppy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I know haven’t acted wisely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” said Crowley, biting into another biscuit. “Naughty boy.” He winked at his angel and sat down on the sofa to examine the soles of his shoes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale, now a little hopeful that Crowley wasn’t just going to tell him off and leave, inched closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you bring me here to… have a word with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley didn’t look up from finishing his biscuit and repairing his shoes with what looked like Reiki. “If I want to have a word with you, Aziraphale, I’ll do it anywhere. I came here because I know you have illegal stashes of wine and food.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And to have a word with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A third wiggle. “Because I was naughty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you were naughty.” Crowley, finally satisfied with his shoes, put his feet down with a happy exhale. “Again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The baby blue eyes shone.  “You’re not going to spank me again are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley gave a soft chuckle. </span>
  <span>“Do you want me to?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale couldn’t honestly say that he did, not exactly. But…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Feeling guilty?” asked Crowley. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale nodded solemnly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Please take me in your arms. For any reason at all.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mere, angel.” Crowley leaned forward and caught Aziraphale by the hand to bring him in, then lightly tugged him so the angel toppled over his lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon smiled fondly, and lightly slapped Aziraphale’s backside, despite his coat and suit, over and over. And on each playful smack he said:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Naughty boy. <em>Naughty naughty naughty naughty naughty naughty naughty</em> boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The impact was felt, even though it was sweet and daft and didn’t hurt him at all. All the angel knew is he felt warm. He liked being called "boy". It wasn't anything he'd actually been, but it felt like a nice game to play.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley brought his angel back up to a place of dignity, and they sat side by side on the sofa. The demon beamed at his angel. “You weren’t actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>naughty</span>
  </em>
  <span>, angel. You do know that? Foolish to get involved because they’re some of the most dangerous humans in history, but I know you were trying to help. I just… want you safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale glowed. “I thought I was the guardian angel,” he said warmly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe one day. When you grow up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am grown up,” he said. “And I missed you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley was also feeling warm now. Aziraphale’s eyes and lips seemed bigger than usual. And he did seem a little more grown up - it was true. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, angel. I can stop infantilising you if you prefer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” said Aziraphale quickly. “I didn’t say that. I rather like that. And the... <em>spankings</em>. Though perhaps as an opt-in activity rather than a general ongoing dynamic. I don’t intend to ever stop being </span>
  <em>
    <span>your cherub</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was so brave, and Crowley didn’t know what to do with it. The moment felt all too real. But so blazing. His blazing angel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale kept his nerve. “But I can also be a guardian angel. And try to keep you safe. I believe we did have that conversation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley looked away. “And you still don’t get it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please.” Aziraphale put his hand on Crowley’s knee. “I also want to be a good friend to a person who I believe deserves the best friendship available. And…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale leaned in, and kissed him on the lips. “You deserve love, Crowley.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do get the bit where I’m a demon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes I had noticed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be sassy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be a dick.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley’s jaw dropped. “Aziraphale! Mind your language.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The angel smiled sarcastically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a demon!” said Crowley. "Don't forget that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale swallowed. "I couldn't forget that and you're very foolish to suggest otherwise." He slapped the demon's knee on the word 'foolish'.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley growled. "You need to remember who you're dealing with," he said in his best threatening tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then remind me," dared Aziraphale, in <em>his</em> best threatening tone. </span>
</p><p>What followed was the world's most desperate snog. They whimpered and moaned as they kissed one another as hard as they could within a fierce embrace. </p><p>Aziraphale came up for air. "Well, someone woke up horny," he said.</p><p>Crowley glowered and simply took Aziraphale crotch in his hand. The angel squeaked. </p><p>"I was asleep for a <em>while</em>, Aziraphale," drawled Crowley. "Morning wood is to be expected. What's your excuse?"</p><p>They returned to the kiss. Moments later Crowley was lying on top of his angel, and they were both freely dry humping one another. </p><p>They stared into one another's eyes. "We could just, you know, work it out, like this," said Crowley, pressing hard against the angel beneath him. "Or we could pick up where we left off."</p><p>Aziraphale pulled Crowley's hips in close for a good thrust. They could just come like this. Then maybe they could think clearly. But all he'd thought about since that awful day in the manor house was how close they'd been to...</p><p>Crowley sighed. "I want to," he said. "I know you do. We waited enough." He leaned in closer, kissing and nuzzling Aziraphale, while still rubbing. It felt good in this particular suit. It would be all too easy to...</p><p>"Crowley," moaned Aziraphale. "If we get caught."</p><p>"We can be careful." The demon tried to slow down, saving himself for what he hoped was going to be the best night of his life. He gazed at his angel. "<span>One of these days, it could all change. The end times could just kick off, like <em>that</em>. Bloody antichrist, four horsemen, bam. And then we lose all of this, Aziraphale. Don’t you see? We don’t have forever. I want you. Oh Heaven I want you."</span></p><p>
  <span>He started to writhe again, until he felt Aziraphale's fingers on his fly. The zipper came down. Crowley looked into his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I want to feel you," said Aziraphale. "Properly. And that monstrosity, it's allowed inside, if it wants."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley smirked. "Oh it does."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The angel gulped. "How do you want me?" he asked bravely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"In my arms," breathed Crowley, his arms trembling. "</span>
  <span>We can share this miracle, decide how we fit together. Any way you like. We go slowly."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale nodded. “You’ve done this before.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. It passed the time now and again. But humans are..."</span>
</p><p>"Fleeting?"</p><p>"Human," said Crowley. "Now, how are you with nudity?"</p><p>"How about underneath something light, like a nice silk sheet? But us, naked, underneath it?"</p><p>Crowley kissed him on the nose. So sweet. Sweet little angel about to demurely lose his virginity. The demon snapped his fingers, and they were naked together on the sofa, underneath a shimmering ivory cloth. Their naked erections rubbed together. </p><p>
  <span>"C’mere," said Crowley, hoisting the angel's knees up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale made a nervous little sound, but Crowley merely returning to sliding his cock along the angel's. "Now, now," he said. "My naughty cherub." He kissed him, lovingly. Tenderly. Sexily. Then forced eye contact. "I'm going to make this nice and slippery, and you can make any adjustments you need to. Keep looking at me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, Crowley," said Aziraphale, almost with an eye roll at his instructions. But he gasped sharply as the cool, viscous lubricant was applied to his little asshole. Then demonic fingers were exploring, and the angel felt very scared, and his cock even started to soften. But one finger slipped in, and Aziraphale bucked. A second finger, and Aziraphale was hard again. He remembered what Crowley had said and looked into his eyes. It was suddenly as if they both knew how they both felt. Crowley leaned forward a little to stare intently into Aziraphale's baby blue eyes, and the angel felt what he knew was Crowley's cock nudging him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, <em>fuck</em>," gasped Aziraphale. He visualised accommodating Crowley, and sure enough, the demon was sinking into him with gratifying ease. They stilled, moaning together, until it became impossible for Crowley not to start moving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was too good. Keeping a slow pace became futile. Crowley leaned down and kissed his angel </span>
  <span>his tongue delving into his mouth possessively. Aziraphale reached for the demon's hips to grip them tightly. The sensation was something very new. He normally liked to come face down, rubbing his dick against something firm but soft. He penis wasn't involved here. But he did have a demon between his legs, fucking his bottom, hitting his prostate. He could hear himself making very panicked noises. And Crowley... he was close. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was an overwhelming heat. Crowley had forgotten just how hot a body can be on the inside. Also, he hadn’t beaten off for years. He realised his mistake. They should have rubbed off on each other first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I might come, way too quickly,” he stammered urgently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's okay," said Aziraphale, terrified of what his body was about to do. It was surely on overload. Nevertheless he couldn't help but grab his cock and start stroking it. It gave him a sense of control.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good thing both of us can work miracles,” he said sweetly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley keened, rutting hard and fast. "I'm sorry! "You're too warm!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ohhh Crowley,” crooned Aziraphale, overwhelmed with affection at the sight of his lost demon. “It’s all right. I’ll get you back on the horse in no time if you fall off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh <em>fuck</em> angel I’m coming!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yes. I want you to. Do it for me. There’s a good demon. Come inside your angel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a slightly cruel thing to say. Crowley didn’t stand a chance. He bucked and shot his load deep inside his angel. Aziraphale could feel it. He continued stroking himself, as Crowley came to a stop.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh I think I really do love watching you come undone," said Aziraphale. "Do it again."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley gave a dry chuckle and a dopey smile. His hips twitched. The silk sheet had fallen off at some point. It hardly seemed to matter now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The angel wriggled beneath him. “I said, do it again. Do as you’re told, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Anthony</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He snapped his fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The miracle flashed through Crowley's body, and he was ready. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh fuck," he rasped as his hips started thrusting again. Another orgasm was already building, slowly but surely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could do this all night,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale smirked. </span>
  <span>“How about until the war ends?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley kissed his angel on the nose again. “Sounds reasonable.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thrust deeper. </span>
  <span>Aziraphale was starting to moan. Crowley experimented with short thrusts, long thrusts, very quick staccato thrusts, and tender languid thrusts. The angel liked them all. The demon was determined to make Aziraphale orgasm in this position, with them both looking at each other. So he picked one method and stuck to it for a bit - fairly fast jabby thrusts, and the angel looked like he was going to heaven. He started stroking himself faster and Crowley leaned in to kiss him. “Who’s a good boy,” cooed Crowley, not relenting with his movements. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It sounded like Aziraphale burst into tears, and the cries he made were so ungodly they made Crowley blush. They were sending him back over the edge, but he kept up the pace, and thrust hard and deep. The angel arched, screamed, and came, painting his chest, tummy and hand in white streaks for several seconds. Crowley felt dizzy at the sight of it, not to mention how intense the contractions around his cock were. He fell onto his angel, scooping him up into his arms, and licking his neck. He rutted wildly, calling Aziraphale's name, until he came again, shuddering in his angel's arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They took a moment. They'd had <em>sex</em>. Crowley miracled cigars because it seemed appropriate. Aziraphale miracled a sweet snack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you feel different?" asked Crowley, sucking on the cigar and feeling tremendous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I feel good," said Aziraphale. "In fact I feel rather... delicious."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley blew some smoke out of his mouth. "You are delicious."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale had been thinking about positions. </span>
  <span>“Can we try with me on my front, perhaps on a pillow?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley chucked. </span>
  <span>“My little pillow humper,” he murmured. "Definitely."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good!" said Aziraphale. He snapped his fingers and created a decadent scene on the shop floor. A giant mattress, big white pillows, silk sheets, and a side table with refreshments on it. He climbed off the sofa and onto the mattress, where he stopped on all fours, and wiggled his bottom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley stubbed out his cigar and slipped into Aziraphale in one deft, slithery moment. He immediately started fucking him, and the angel immediately started screeching orgasmically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh! You wily serpent! Oh yes! Fuck me!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley growled, the words coming out of his angel's mouth driving him to insanity. Where had he picked up such bad language? Well... him probably. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He noticed Aziraphale was trying to cup himself for friction. </span>
  <span>He </span>
  <span>reached for a pillow and threw it beneath them. </span>
  <span>Aziraphale gave a delighted cry and lowered himself (with Crowley still inside him) onto it. He wiggled his hips happily, his penis loving the soft friction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now,” said the demon, covering the angel's back. “I have a feeling this is going to be your favourite position.” He laced his fingers through the angel’s and rolled his hips. Aziraphale moaned loudly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’m going to fuck you, and fuck you, and fuck you, until you beg me to stop. I think that pillow is going to get soaked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh Crowley,” whimpered Aziraphale, trying to hump the pillow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon stroked the blond fluffy hair. “You want me to stop, you say 'apple'. Because otherwise I'm not going to stop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right then."   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley inside him, pounding him, and the soft pressure beneath him, gave the angel Aziraphale the best orgasm of his life so far. The moment he recovered, Crowley picked up the pace. The angel came five times on that pillow before Crowley allowed himself an orgasm. They finally opted for down time, but not before Crowley very deliberately showed Aziraphale the pillow in an act of angel-shaming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Bad angel," said Crowley, grinning from ear to ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale <em>almost</em> blushed, but snatched the pillow away and miracled it good as new. His eyes gleamed as he looked at his demon. "I think I should like to learn how to do that to you," he said warmly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley raised an eyebrow, and lit a cigar. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Note that there is a roleplay scene in this chapter where Crowley presents as female for Aziraphale for the purposes of a sexual fantasy where he has a wife. She has a vulva and breasts, and I switch to she/her pronouns. Additionally, Aziraphale later adopts a vulva for the fun of it, but he still identifies as male. They are starting to explore all the options.</p><p>If the way this is written is problematic from a trans perspective (I'm NB myself) please forgive me but do let me know.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They fucked all the way through the rest of the Blitz. Crowley found whilst he was making love to his angel, that around a minute before orgasm, Aziraphale, who was otherwise all soft, sweet moans, started screaming in the campest way possible. It drove the demon wild, as he thrust into him all the harder, to hear those cries of pleasure.</p><p>He had trained his angel to surrender to having his prostate pounded, and to not touch himself or try to rub off on something. If the angel had tried to touch himself, he’d get a quick swat as punishment. Only Crowley could touch Aziraphale’s penis, when he’d decided it was time. The cries of ecstasy would begin - and he knew the angel wasn’t faking it because he would never voluntarily scream so loudly. So Crowley would reach around and start stroking him, and the angel would lose his mind. </p><p>Aziraphale let Crowley have his way with him wherever he liked, provided the demon worked a pristine miracle to clean up any stains. They had therefore had sex all over the shop, even on the stairs, and Aziraphale had ejaculated over most of the floor, every chair, his desk, up a couple of the walls, and due to a little too much wine one night, all over his favourite thesaurus. </p><p>Crowley happily obliged getting rid of the evidence. He knew it helped Aziraphale let go when it counted. It was like fucking a fountain at times. Or like shaking up a bottle of champagne to Christen something.</p><p>And all of this was just the first week of exploring intercourse together. </p><p>Aziraphale had never had orgasms quite like this before. He was enjoying himself immensely. But he was starting to wonder what else he didn’t know. He eyed up Crowley who was sampling a new red wine and studying the label.</p><p>“How about,” the angel began.</p><p>“How about what, angel? I think we’ve covered every square foot of the bookshop.” </p><p>“No, I…” he stopped, bit his lip and blushed.</p><p>Crowley looked at him. “It’s all right,” he said kindly. “You can’t embarrass me now. What is it?”</p><p>Aziraphale squirmed. “I’ve always thought it must be nice to take someone to bed. For the first time, I mean.”</p><p>Crowley narrowed his eyes, listening intently. </p><p>Aziraphale cleared his throat. “For example, a husband taking his maiden wife to their marriage bed, and deflowering her. In one of those four-poster beds. All very gentle. And I think there are rose petals.”</p><p>“Are there?” said Crowley, wrinkling his nose. </p><p>“Anyway,” said the angel, noticing Crowley’s indifference and deciding to shrug it off. “It was just an idea.”</p><p>“I think I’ve deflowered you quite enough. You’re deflowered. No more flower. More of a ploughed field.”</p><p>Aziraphale sat up very straight. “I wasn’t talking about me,” he said primly. “I was thinking I could be the one to take my wife to bed, and to de-virgin both of us. Or something.” He stood up quickly and brushed himself down. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, before walking off to the kitchen.</p><p>“No wait!” called Crowley, jumping up. “I didn’t mean to… we can do that, angel.”</p><p>Aziraphale slowly turned to study the demon’s face. He seemed genuine enough. </p><p>Crowley wiggled. How he wanted to treat his angel to this sweet scenario. “Four poster bed? Virgin wife? Long luscious red hair, by any chance?”</p><p>“Oh,” said Aziraphale, feeling warm. “Yes. And soft white skin. And a little nervous, perhaps.”</p><p>“And this husband lays her down to make love to her for the first time ever?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“And this husband is all caring and gentle?” Crowley was trying not to smile in case he appeared mocking. It was a boring fantasy, but at the same time, his angel would be aroused, and that was never boring.</p><p>“Well, yes,” said Aziraphale, thinking. “Though also, passionate. Because he’s wanted her for so long. So he…”</p><p>He gestured in a way which implied the “husband” would be somewhat direct.  </p><p>Crowley was becoming more interested now. He got closer to Aziraphale. “And the wife just lies back and thinks of England?”</p><p>“Well,” said the angel, squirming a little now. “He has to do his duty in their marriage bed, and do does she. And she likes it.”</p><p>“Oh she <em> likes </em> it.” Crowley chuckled, shaking his head at the patriarchy. He was going to have to give Aziraphale an education on the subject of the human female. Nevertheless he made a choice to do something nice for his angel.</p><p>Crowley started to change shape. His hair started to grow into long, scarlet ringlets, and his clothing changed to a long, white satin nightdress, with a black woollen shawl over his shoulders. </p><p>Aziraphale gasped. The golden eyes were entrancing. They were exactly the same golden eyes of course, but they seemed so eager to please. </p><p>“Like this?” asked Crowley, who now presented as a womanly wife. Crowley was always slinky, but this presentation was the slinkiest in thousands of years. </p><p>“Yes,” answered the angel, breathlessly. He felt a throb in his groin. He wanted to pull up her nightdress and look at her legs.</p><p>“Take me to bed,” said Crowley shyly. “<em> Husband. </em>”</p><p>Aziraphale shivered. He cleared his throat, took her by the hand, and led her upstairs.</p><p>Crowley had miracled a bedroom in the shop for the sake of comfort the very same night he'd first 'deflowered' Aziraphale, though they’d hardly used it. As the angel suspected, the bed had now been miracled into a four-poster affair, just as he’d mentioned. The room felt a bit 18th century. It was only lit by moonlight, and rose petals adorned the bed covers. </p><p>With a firm arm around her waist, Aziraphale pulled Crowley into a passionate kiss. He pushed the shawl off her shoulders, and the ivory nightdress shone in the dark room. </p><p>“Lie down, my dear,” he said, before fastidiously setting about removing his cuff links. </p><p>Crowley elegantly draped herself over the bed, looking right at Aziraphale as he undressed. He disappeared out of view once down to his shirt and boxers, and reappeared in a long night shirt as if he were Wee Willy Winky. Crowley had a job not to laugh, but she was determined to support Aziraphale in his old fashioned deflowering fantasy. The angel knelt on the bed and crawled up to his waiting wife. </p><p>Crowley’s chest was rising and falling quickly, and her eyes were shining. Her hard nipples were visible through the nightdress. Aziraphale stroked her clothed hip with a warm hand, then brought his fingers up to touch her breast. He cupped it momentarily, his thumb running over the nipple. Her body quivered beneath him.  </p><p>“It’s all right, my dear,” he said, his fingers dropping to the hem of her nightdress. He arranged himself so he was lying on top of her and kissed her softly on the lips. </p><p>“Please be gentle,” she said, as he brought her nightdress up to reveal a naked thigh. She drew her knees up and canted her hips with a moan.</p><p>Aziraphale hoisted up his night shirt at the front just enough for flesh to meet flesh, then holding his erection in one hand, aligned himself. His cock twitched at the thought of her opening. He felt her heat and wetness as he delicately rubbed his tip over her velvety folds, up and down, up and down. Crowley moved with him, pushing her hips forward when Aziraphale graced over the place she wanted him most. The angel snaked his other arm underneath her, cradling her close to him. He kissed her again, then nudged her entrance. </p><p>Crowley gasped. The angel felt thick and insistent - and strangely large, but she wriggled her hips to accommodate him, and tried to relax. Their eyes met in the low light, and shifting just a little, Aziraphale pressed a little harder. With a nod from Crowley, he pushed through the resistance and slid right into the most perfect envelope of sensation. </p><p>She cried out, and he forced himself to keep very still. He registered that he’d breached her, taken her virginity.</p><p>“Are you all right?” he whispered.</p><p>“I am now,” she said, loving the feel of him inside. She hadn’t been prepared for the feel of the tear, but it wasn’t painful. Aziraphale kissed her face, her neck, her shoulders, and only moved minutely, giving her all the time in the world. She recognised this, and lifted her knees up a little more, her hands holding him close and encouraging him to continue.</p><p>His breath shook. His pupils dilated. He shifted again, then pulled back a tiny bit, then pushed forward. He was watching her face. The golden eyes were cloudy, her lips parted and seemingly larger than usual. He repeated his motion, then again, so very gently, so very carefully. </p><p>“Does it hurt?” he rasped.</p><p>“No,” she moaned. Crowley had never seen Aziraphale so centred, so grounded. He felt strong and warm. Of course, the angel needed propriety, purity, even if it was a century or two out of date. He needed to know he was being a good boy, and doing everything by the book, so he could be free of guilt in this moment.</p><p>“You can go faster. I want you to,” she said.</p><p>There was relief on his face, and she felt him tremble as he quickened his pace. He was clearly trying to keep control, whilst feeling overwhelm. She watched him fondly. This was his virginity too, his first time inside another being. She doubted he would last long.</p><p>For Crowley, it felt lovely, but not quite enough. Aziraphale was still being very gentle - a little too gentle. She raised her hips and caught him out for a moment as he sank a little deeper in. He cried out, then gave her a dark look. Holding her tight, he began to kiss her neck fervently, and trace his fingers over her flesh. She moaned and arched. </p><p>“I’ve waited so long,” she intoned, playing the part. “<em>Please.</em>”</p><p>He supporting his weight on his arms and began to really thrust. She gripped his bottom, inducing a growl, as he rutted in and out of her. He was groaning, and those groans were becoming increasingly high pitched.</p><p>Well, thought Crowley. Aziraphale may like the idea of deflowering a passive beauty, but this passive beauty wasn’t going to be left hanging by this typical 18th century husband’s selfishness. Her fingers found her clitoris and massaged purposefully while he humped away. </p><p>The combination short-circuited her senses and brought her to the brink of climax very quickly. She smiled wickedly, still aware of her <em>husband</em> going at it somewhat gracelessly. She wasn’t going to be left behind. </p><p>Aziraphale knew he wouldn’t last long, and was thinking he ought to do something for Crowley. But beneath him, his wife shook and writhed, and devilish contractions gripped his penis. What had she done, and so quickly? He looked down and saw exactly what she’d done. He caught the slim wrist, and pulled it out from between them and pinned it to the mattress.</p><p>“My <em>dear</em>,” he scolded, not without some humour. “You and are are going to have a little chat about your penchant for impatience.” He pursed his lips, and his eyes flashed a warning.</p><p>Crowley chuckled, still basking in her orgasm. She loved it when Aziraphale got bitchy. The angel was almost dominant here, and it was delightful. But Crowley gasped when he let go of her wrist, and she felt those warm, chubby fingers on her clitoris. </p><p>Aziraphale tutted. “So very wet. I knew you were going to be insatiable.” His mouth quirked up in a knowing smile, which Crowley returned. The angel applied some pressure and movement to the swollen nub at the same time as steadily moving back and forth inside her. </p><p>Crowley arched, still very sensitive, realising she was about to come a second time because her husband was surprisingly attentive. What <em>had</em> he been reading?</p><p>The angel methodically continued his ministrations, watching Crowley’s reactions keenly. They were locked in eye contact, occasionally kissing, then studying one another again. It was electric, and every nerve between them crackled. </p><p>Aziraphale resisted pursuing his own orgasm, which was no mean feat, and quickened the little circles he was making with his fingers. The red head beneath him cried out and thrust up, and Aziraphale felt a rush of wetness while her vagina squeezed and squeezed him. Her subsequent moans signalled her immense satisfaction, and Aziraphale felt like a God. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her shoulder, smelling her skin and her hair. He rutted and rutted, doing his <em> duty </em> to her, what was <em> expected </em> of him as a <em>good husband, </em>a<em> good lover</em>. As was right, he was going to come <em> inside </em> Crowley now and consummate the marriage.</p><p>She held him tight, rubbing his back, pulling him into her so there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that he was doing the right thing. He started to cry out, as the sounds of slapping flesh and the creaking of the bed became a cacophony. The thrusts came fast and powerful, and Crowley could tell Aziraphale’s body was in charge now and the poor angel was just along for the ride. </p><p>And that was it. Aziraphale came with a succession of grunts, adoring the sensation of spilling into Crowley. He slumped onto her, a writhing, trembling mess as undulations wracked his body. Crowley lay there supporting her angel, feeling filled, clenching around the softening penis and hot, milky come. </p><p>He was becoming increasingly boneless, so rolled off her, and they lay on their backs having pulled their nightclothes down for the sake of modesty, occasionally looking at each other and giggling. Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand and gave it a playful smack. “That was not discussed. You should have waited for me.”</p><p>“Sorry, husband,” she breathed theatrically. “I promise I won’t do that again. I’ll do whatever you say and never, ever disobey you.”</p><p>Aziraphale chuckled. “That’s better,” he said, with a cheeky smile. </p><p>Silence filled the room. Crowley rolled onto her side and propped herself up on one elbow. “You like me like this?” she asked.</p><p>Aziraphale blinked quizzically. “I like you like anything,” he answered. Then, after a bit of a think, he said, “You don’t need to be any particular shape for me to want you - to want to be inside you, you know.”</p><p>Crowley looked at her angel brightly, then with a delighted smile, morphed back into the Crowley she had been earlier that evening, with shorter hair and a little stubble on his face. Aziraphale immediately kissed him tenderly - just as tenderly as he had within their role play.</p><p>“You’re my demon,” said the angel. “It’s fun to make an <em>effort</em> to be human sometimes. There are so many options. I don't mind which we choose, because the important thing is I'm doing it with you.”</p><p>Crowley grinned and cupped Aziraphale through his nightshirt. “You ought to try having one of those. They’re a lot of fun.”</p><p>Aziraphale pushed into the pressure, and gave Crowley a sly look. “Do you really think I haven’t, after the way I touched you?”</p><p>Crowley’s mouth fell open in surprise. “Oh, of course,” he said. “Seriously, angel, what <em>have</em> you been reading?”</p><p>Aziraphale gave him a glorious, enigmatic smile, then placed his hand on Crowley’s to press harder against him. A miracle altered something, and Crowley understood immediately. No penis. A soft, warm opening that was so welcoming he could feel it through the cotton. He immediately rolled on top of his angel, and his angel immediately spread his legs.</p><p>“Fuck,” said Crowley, guiding himself into a very slick Aziraphale. </p><p>The bed resumed its rhythmic creaking.</p><p> </p><p>The end of the war came and went. So did the 1950s. Aziraphale forgot to open the shop, and the bed creaked almost endlessly. They went to a great deal of <em> effort </em>to explore the variety of ways in which bodies can connect, and in which they could relate to their bodies through myriad characters and scenarios they’d seen, and imagined, through time. </p><p>They eventually came up for air in the early sixties. Crowley heard someone in Soho playing a rock and roll record, and thought there might finally be something worth leaving the house for. Aziraphale thought he should probably sell a book or something.</p><p>With Heaven and Hell expecting them to report in, they both thought it might be an idea to create very separate lives, in case someone was watching. They had no choice but to be extremely careful, and frequently this meant not seeing each other as much as they’d like.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>1967, Soho, London</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Society shifted quite notably. Things became more colourful, more free, and there were songs about the age of aquarius which Aziraphale found particularly exciting. But he couldn’t quite keep up with the changing times in the same way that Crowley could. In short, the angel had various cosy, comfortable habits, and the demon was in his element. </p><p>Apart from mistakenly assuming that John Lennon was the second coming, Crowley totally <em> owned </em>the 1960s. Humans were up for a laugh, finally. He was having a wonderful time with all the new things being invented. But Crowley’s mind, when it wasn’t tripping on acid, went to holy water again, if ever he felt his Earth lifestyle was threatened. </p><p>Aziraphale was most put out to hear that Crowley was up to no good. It shouldn’t have surprised him, but it certainly worried him. Breaking into a church to steal a deadly substance. It would be better if he just got it for him. If anything went wrong, Crowley could be exterminated. And he’d saved Aziraphale so many times. Maybe it was time for Aziraphale to save him - save his recalcitrant demon, running amok around London. He was becoming ever so noisy. Everyone knew who he was, which made it impossible for Aziraphale to subtly steal a moment with him.</p><p>The angel smiled fondly. He missed him terribly. But it wasn’t worth either of them being sentenced to extinction. So he decided after all this time to help Crowley with his awful request. And give him a ticking off. And perhaps tell him to stop running around like one of teenage type humans. Fast cars and fast sex and drugs and drinks and rock n roll. Aziraphale tutted. </p><p>But he got the Holy Water, to keep Crowley safe. What he said to him that night didn’t come out quite right. He did long for picnics, perhaps a dinner at the Ritz, but he needed Crowley to reign it in. He took a deep breath, and hoped it wouldn’t be long before Crowley contacted him again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Only a couple more chapters until this fic is a wrap. :-)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was a strange few decades of delicately not fraternising. Aziraphale knew Crowley was living out his best legend as a bit of a tart - to onlookers at least. He was slinking about in those black jeans and Aziraphale was finding it extremely hard to concentrate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon’s performance began with a thoroughly intense French kiss. He snogged Sandra, the woman who ran the Soho night time video shop (which had an eclectic collection of movies, for the discerning gentleman) in her doorway, so that everyone (especially Hell) knew Mr Crowley was a highly sexed person who liked sin, rather than an occultist at a loose end who missed his angel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale caught this particular show twice. The first time it was a bit of shock, and he felt quite upset. He tried not to show it, of course. But he went to lock up one evening and found himself watching his demon grope and devour Sandra, in the middle of the street. There was nothing wrong with Sandra, of course. But he was unhappy about just how far that tongue was going down her throat, and how tight those jeans had become in the crotch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Crowley came up for air, he immediately turned to see if Aziraphale had noticed. He saw the angel pout and flounce into his bookshop. But Crowley also saw there was an audience, and he had a reputation to develop/upkeep. So he returned to Sandra and swept her off her feet and into her shop. He led her upstairs to the bedroom and was sure to turn the light on. Then he fucked her up against her window, so the whole of Soho could see just how human and base he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale’s bedroom window was directly across from Sandra’s, of course, so Aziraphale had gone straight there, and was standing in the dark, watching his demon hump the woman, whose buttocks were spread against the window pane. But he also saw that Crowley’s golden glowing eyes were fixed on him the entire time, just peeping over Sandra’s shoulder. He didn’t even blink. The angel felt his cock stir under the demonic gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley and Sandra were as loud as they could be, and a crowd assembled outside to watch the show (fortunately this was long before camera phones). Aziraphale heard his breath catch at the thought of Crowley having such public sex, and his trousers became all too tight. He unzipped his fly and pulled himself out. He made sure he could be seen only by Crowley, and no one from the street outside, then started to stroke, and pull, and tug.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The yellow eyes were still on him, though the orgasmic cries from the couple were becoming unbridled shouts, and the thrusting was utterly manic. The window shook and the people below gasped. The angel, still in darkness, unfastened his trousers all together and tugged them down along with his underwear, just to the top of his thighs. He put one hand on the wall next to the window, and jerked faster and faster, sure that his demon could see what he was doing, if only from the tell-tale movement. Crowley looked startled for a second, his head lifting and jaw dropping, then rutted as fast as he could. Sandra, who was holding on for dear life, screamed out a powerful climax, and at last the demon’s eyes fell closed as he slammed into her with three deep, deliberate thrusts, accompanied by filthy, throaty grunts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The crowd outside burst into applause, and Aziraphale, imagining just how hard Crowley had come inside that woman, burst so abruptly he painted a dramatic white stripe on his window. It splashed on the floor, and on his shoes, and he groaned in appreciation of his own decadence. He stood firm, milking himself, staring straight into those demonic eyes which were still staring at him, albeit with some peace in them. Moments later, gravity insisted Crowley extract himself from Sandra, and they clumsily uncoupled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale stumbled back from the window, still feeling somewhat electrified by what he’d seen. He started stroking himself again, needing more, needing it again, needing it now. He knelt on the bed, grabbed a pillow, stuffed it under his hips and ground into it as hard as he could. He fisted the sheets and humped wildly, the contact and friction on his balls and cock blowing his mind. He sighed and cried softly, and remembering the sounds Crowley had just made, allowed himself to grunt a little bit as he rutted. It was so sinful, so base, and it turned him on evebn more hearing his own sounds. The bed shook with his desperate movements. Muffling a yell, he arched and came a second time, spurting into the pillow over and over and over, and rolling his hips in a deep, deliberate motion, to eke out every last indulation, just as he’d seen Crowley do. He trembled until satisfaction reached every part of him, and he slumped into a short, soft sleep right where he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a shower after that, and miracled away evidence of his misadventure. He looked over into Sandra’s bedroom again. They were on the bed now, going for round two. The angel had to wonder why he wasn’t jealous, let alone actually getting off on it. But he knew deep down… it was all for him. All of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second time Aziraphale saw Crowley make a display of grabbing and kissing Sandra, he simply tutted as one might expect from a kindly bookseller, then ran inside the shop, threw himself on the bed, and humped his pillow again. It only lasted a couple of minutes, and he hadn’t even undressed. He came happily and copiously in his underpants and trousers, and felt fabulous about it (until he felt dreadfully ashamed shortly afterwards). He dopily got off the bed to see if Crowley and Sandra had taken the performance to the bedroom, but they were still outside chatting. Crowley looked up at him, though. And winked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After Sandra the video shop owner, there was Louisa the tobacconist, Jamie the nightclub owner, Tabatha the pub landlady, Jeffrey the dancer, Max the bouncer, all of whom Crowley snogged to bits and dry humped in his skinny jeans, all very publicly on various Soho street corners. And those particular street corners were all very visible from various cafes, wine bars and bookshops. Aziraphale always managed to be watching from behind a newspaper or a door or a menu, until he got himself up to his bedroom (apart from the one time he came in his pants in a cafe during dessert, because Max the bouncer was hot as fuck and Aziraphale’s trousers were too tight, and honestly Crowley could have gone to jail for letting Max doing those things to him in public). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The charade seemed to work over the years. But the angel and demon were still too nervous to actually be seen together or to even initiate contact. So when Armageddon sounded the 11 year klaxon, they were both secretly delighted. Aziraphale suddenly felt the need to be a very professional angel. This was the final fight. Crowley’s suggestions that they work together were ridiculous, or at least they had been until lunch and wine had been had. The angel looked around nervously to make sure no one was looking, but it appeared that Crowley’s sexcapades had thrown their head offices off any kind of scent. So they finally, finally, got to spend the day together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then they had a plan, after sobering up a bit. Crowley would be wily and Aziraphale would thwart him, and Heaven couldn’t object therefore to the two of them working closely together all of a sudden. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What a good idea, thought Aziraphale. ‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘It’s not that bad once you get used to it,’ said Crowley, with a cheeky smirk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The smile dropped off Aziraphale’s face. ‘Now…’ he warned, raising a finger. ‘None of that, thank you. Wily demon.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Yes. Wily. That’s me. Me and my </span>
  <em>
    <span>wiles</span>
  </em>
  <span>.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Yes, you and you wiles, all over Soho, all of these years, you wicked thing.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley pulled a face. ‘You didn’t try to thwart me though, did you?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I was… keeping an eye on you.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Aha. One eye on the prize. One hand on your <em>little angel</em>?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale blushed, and wished he hadn’t sobered up. Crowley stood and sauntered over to his angel, taking care not to trip on the antique Persian rug at his feet. ‘Did you wish you could stop me?’ teased the demon. ‘Did you want to thwart me? Drag me back to the bookshop?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The angel accidentally moaned and flexed his hips. Those tight black jeans. And now Crowley was standing right in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The demon bent over to whisper in his ear. </span>
  <span>‘Punish me?’ he breathed at Aziraphale, impishly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The angel caught Crowley by the belt buckle and pulled him close. With his other hand he cupped the demon’s balls, all the while staring into his eyes. He squeezed gently, then started to massage the area. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley moaned and canted his hips as his jeans tightened around his growing bulge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Oh fuck, angel. We musn’t. We shouldn’t.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘That’s enough of that. We’ve played our parts and they clearly don’t suspect. Everyone’s busy looking at battle plans, I imagine.’ He continued to calmly massage Crowley, feeling deliciously dominant and hot under the collar as he did. ‘It’s time I reminded you who you belong to.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley’s gazed at him, and the angel winked. He withdrew his hand, then spun Crowley around by the hips. Then he pushed him just hard enough to encourage the demon onto all fours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Oi!’ shouted Crowley, as he sprawled on the Persian rug, his jeans taut over his pert backside. A smack on his bottom made him gasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Your behaviour,’ scolded Aziraphale landing another smack every few seconds, which elicited indecent groans. ‘Was an absolute </span>
  <em>
    <span>abomination</span>
  </em>
  <span>, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>filthy</span>
  </em>
  <span> display of inequity, a sordid circus of sin!’</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Smack smack smack. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley bucked his hips, his dick straining against the dampening denim, his buttocks tingling, his need for his angel overwhelming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Oh yes!’ he squawked. ‘I’ve been </span>
  <em>
    <span>so bad</span>
  </em>
  <span> angel. So naughty!’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Yes you have!’ </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Smack smack smack.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>‘I had so much sex, angel! All the time!’ He smirked as he heard Aziraphale unfastening his trousers and zipper. Then gasped sharply as a particularly sharp swat landed across both buttocks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘You are thoroughly, thoroughly wicked, base, evil, dreadful...’ chided Aziraphale, still spanking the demon while adjusting his clothing. Then he was reaching around, miracling Crowley’s belt and jeans undone, peeling them down, pushing the demon lower, and lining up his leaking erection. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley couldn’t keep his hips still and it was destroying Aziraphale. Those evil, wiggling hips. That slinky, saucy walk. The way he’d tempted and seduced and allowed people to touch him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale’s breath shook, and he squeezed Crowley’s hip gently. Crowley took the hint and spoke in a rasp. ‘Punish me angel. Remind me who I belong to.’ He presented his bottom with a pointed wiggle. The bare backside got a final smack, though a fairly soft one, and Crowley couldn’t help but emit an ‘ohhh yeah,’ as he rolled his hips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with that, the angel carefully pushed himself in, and they both groaned deeply. They were both breathing heavily, then shifting slowly, then Aziraphale started a punishing rhythm that he knew would finish them both off, so never mind armageddon. He held the demon’s hips tenderly, but fucked Crowley right into the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The feel of his angel inside him after so long was exquisite. The urgency of his angel was the horniest thing he’d known in decades. Crowley felt guilty, sad, exhilarated, delicious, and aroused beyond all the stars. He was very, very loud. ‘Ah! Yeah! I need it! Do it to me! Do it harder! Punish me, Aziraphale! I’m sorry! Fuck me! Yes! Yes! Oh fuck yes! Ahhhh! PUNISH ME.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The angel’s knees were numb, and his grip on Crowley was getting harder, and his burning need to fill the wily serpent up with his seed was everything. He started to shout out, deciding he deserved to come hard inside this demon. If Crowley came or not was not particularly relevant, because he’d been such a </span>
  <em>
    <span>naughty</span>
  </em>
  <span> little devil, and needed to be taught a lesson. This thought process made him </span>
  <em>
    <span>dizzy</span>
  </em>
  <span> with lust. He, an angel, </span>
  <em>
    <span>claiming</span>
  </em>
  <span> a demon!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale’s cries went higher and softer in pitch despite the deep, hard thrusts, and Crowley stretched out to ensure he was getting slammed just where he needed to be slammed. He immediately felt his pleasure spike with every thrust, and then the onset of a powerful surge. He was going to come on Aziraphale’s Persian rug without touching himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I’m sorry angel. Sorry I was so naughty,’ he managed to stutter just before he lost the capacity for speech, and pleasure shot through him like a white hot thunder bolt. His legs shook.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale cried out a soft gasp, snapping his hips, then growled a throaty groan as he came, pulsing into that tempting bottom and relishing every moment of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley mewled and arched like a cat as his prick throbbed violently and spurted out an abundance of creamy fluid in a powerful succession of jets. It occurred to the angel it must have been some time since Crowley had indulged, given the actual </span>
  <em>
    <span>puddle</span>
  </em>
  <span> of come now sitting his rug.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They separated and recovered. Opening another bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape helped, and they sat on the floor, staring at the ruined rug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I suppose we both needed that,’ said Aziraphale, not wanting to miracle the stain away just yet. He felt oddly proud of it making it happen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley had restored his clothing, and wasn’t as comfortable looking at the rug. ‘Please can we send it away now?’ he whined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘There’s enough there to start a new civilisation,’ said Aziraphale, with awe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Yeah well I’m not going to get you pregnant.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Have you got anyone else pregnant?’ asked the angel bitchily, sipping his wine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley cocked his head to one side and gave Aziraphale a withering glare. ‘My sperm aren’t in that line of business,’ he said. ‘They know better.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Oh,’ said Aziraphale, still feeling sassy. ‘So I shall have to settle for being Godfather to the antichrist rather than a little demon.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley snorted at that. ‘Little demon…’ he muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘I bet A Little You would be adorable.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘A Little Me would bite your ankles.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale gave him a stern look. ‘Then A Little You would go on the naughty step.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley sneered. ‘The naughty step?! It would take a bit more than that to discipline a little demon.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Yes, well,’ said Aziraphale. ‘That’s a good point.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘And with me for a father, the little demon would be magnificently evil, cunning, and wicked.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Well, we’ll see those skills put to the test, won’t we. When you try to raise the antichrist.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘A naughty little angel, however,’ continued Crowley, thoughtfully. ‘What do we do with naughty little angels, Aziraphale?’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The angel pursed his lips. ‘Well I’m not having A Little Me, so we’ll never know.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley broke out into a wide, creepy grin. ‘You still are a baby.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Stop it.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘You said you’d always be my cherub.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale wiggled in his seat on the floor, then tried to sit up straight. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘I did say that.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley sniggered, then gracelessly got to his feet. He cringed at the sight of the rug and miracled it away. Aziraphale immediately leaned over to inspect the threads, but it seemed good as new. Then he was aware of a bony demonic hand being offered to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He accepted it and allowed Crowley to pull him to his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘Now,’ said the demon. ‘I’ve got an idea for how I want this godfather shit to go. In fact godfathers might not be quite what’s needed. Anyway, I’d like to try something out, angel. And I think you might enjoy it.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale frowned at his demon, allowing the trepidation he was feeling to be evident. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crowley grinned again. ‘Have you ever seen Mary Poppins?’ he asked. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Aziraphale is discovering some intense Ageplay fantasies after spending years in the same household as Nanny Astoreth. He mostly keeps them to himself but eventually decides to be courageous.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter focusing on Aziraphale's ageplay desires for wetting, and there is some mild diapering and ABDL experimentation. This has next to no plot, so you won't miss out if you prefer to skip it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Aziraphale had never dared to dream, that in the final days of earth and his last gasps of service as an incorporated principality, that he would get to see Crowley play out his sexy, domineering side as a stern Nanny, thereby activating all and any sexual and/or emotional desires that Aziraphale had ever had. </p><p>She was devastatingly soft with the baby, though, and Aziraphale loved this. He came into the kitchen one day for a cup of tea, as Brother Francis of course, and stood there waiting for the kettle to boil. He and the Nanny often found themselves in the kitchen together lately, and their personas often dropped momentarily if they were alone. But she was nowhere to be seen this morning.</p><p>He found himself staring at a new bag of diapers, or nappies as he preferred to call them, that were on the worktop. Things really had come on since the early days of cloth, he thought idly. These looked soft and sweet. He imagined himself wearing one. He might feel cute. It was a foolish idea surely. But, thought Aziraphale, he could wet himself and stay dry. No one would know. </p><p>He was trying very hard not to think about that, and was instead accidentally thinking about what a miracled nappy for himself would look like, when Crowley, or rather the Nanny, said ‘hi'.</p><p>Aziraphale shrieked. </p><p>'What have you done?' she asked sternly.</p><p>'Nothing,' said Brother Francis, wishing the kettle would hurry up.</p><p>'Come on, angel,' she whispered. 'I’ve been a demon for over 6000 years. I know a guilty jump when I see one. What did you do? Steal a cookie?' Then she followed his guilty glance and saw the diapers. 'Angel', she chided. 'Those aren’t for you.' </p><p>'I know they’re not!' blustered Aziraphale. He tried to walk away but she stopped him. </p><p>'Still wetting the bed?' asked Crowley suggestively. </p><p>'I don’t wet the bed,' whined Aziraphale. 'It’s not fair of you to tease me about something that happened a very long time ago when I’d only just become incorporated.' </p><p>'I’m not teasing you.' Crowley's eyes were genuine. 'And anyway, whose fault was it that you were ‘suddenly incorporated’ with all the naughty bits and pieces that made you want to do naughty things?'</p><p>Aziraphale pouted. </p><p>Crowley got close. Very close. 'Whatever you think is shameful about what you like, I promise you it isn’t.'</p><p>The angel smiled weakly, but gratefully.</p><p>'But don't take those ones,' added Crowley, sweeping out of the kitchen.</p><p>The kettle came to the boil, and the angel banished all of those thoughts away. </p><p>It was three weeks before Aziraphale, in the safety of his bedroom in the bookshop, gave in and miracled himself a nappy that fit him perfectly. It hugged him, in fact. It had happy little ducks on it. And it felt incredibly soft against his naughty bits and pieces. He liked the way it crinkled and rustled, and he thought how nice it must be to be a baby, and just be fed and loved, and changed and bathed. He padded about in it and felt delightful. The next thing his mind suggested was that he could wee in it, which was followed the very next second by Aziraphale miracling it away in a horrified panic, and he told himself off in the mirror.</p><p>With Crowley as Nanny Astoreth and Aziraphale as Brother Francis, years went by when all they saw of each other was a streak of threatening tweed and a bundle of bumpkin. The angel watched as the demonic Nanny toed the line between being what Mr and Mrs Dowling might expect from their hired childcare, and influencing the infant antichrist towards evil. He witnessed Nanny Astoreth being soft, even when the little human was troublesome. He had never pictured Crowley changing nappies or being patient with wet toddlers, or reading bedtime stories or feeding ungrateful, grubby little tykes. Nanny Astoreth excelled at this, though she did have something of a superpower when it came to getting the baby off to sleep.  </p><p>Aziraphale knew she sang some rather dark lullabies and encouraged the child to crush little insects, but when the boy Warlock disobeyed by doing something dangerous, such as playing with matches or running with scissors, he also noticed that Nanny Astoreth became more like a human Nanny. She did not condone setting fire to things, or stabbing furniture, though Aziraphale assumed it might blow her cover if she did. She calmly disciplined the child if he misbehaved, which the angel found fascinating. She never once lost her temper, and the excitable little boy soon got tired of testing her, and bored of being sent to his room or denied pudding. </p><p>That firm presence made Aziraphale feel safe and delightful, though also strangely jealous. Aziraphale had never had someone to gently watch over him. It was 'do as you're told or go to hell', and he spent most of his time feeling very anxious or guilty for his earthly interests and indulgences. He knew that lying to Heaven about the Arrangement was also naughty, but he always found a bureaucratic loophole in which he could claim innocence. Nevertheless, he couldn't help but wonder how relaxing it might be to have someone to steadily and kindly help him mind the rules, and to be a better angel, even if it meant being disciplined a little bit. He also thought it couldn't hurt if that disciplinarian looked like Nanny Astoreth. </p><p>He missed his demon friend. Working together necessitated a whole new level of clandestine communication should they need to discuss their project. But mostly, Aziraphale didn’t see the demon Crowley outside of their ‘workspace’. The angel managed the garden very well, without actually having to do anything, and enjoyed teaching Warlock about love and reverence we should have for all things - even slugs. He knew that Crowley hated slugs. Too squirmy, he said. </p><p>Aziraphale was proud of his turn as Brother Francis. It was an excellent disguise, he thought, though some summers were a little too hot for it. He was feeling particularly hot and bothered one morning whilst taking his wheelbarrow for a walk, to find that all of the flowers had been picked and thrown, in what looked like an act of rage. He summoned young Warlock, who at the time was four years old.</p><p>‘Master Warlock,’ he said to the grumpy child approaching. ‘Did you have something to do with murdering my flowers?’</p><p>‘No!’ lied Warlock. ‘But they deserved it.’</p><p>‘Did they,’ asked Brother Francis, his bushy eyebrows rising in surprise.</p><p>‘Yes. Bad flowers. Growing bad.’</p><p>The gardener's eyebrows came down in a disapproving frown. ‘Now, young master Warlock, are you sure you didn’t touch the flowers, because I won’t be happy if you’re telling whoppers.’</p><p>The boy wiggled guilty. ‘Serves you right!’ he suddenly shouted. ‘Flowers are stupid.’</p><p>Aziraphale underneath the weight of his character felt very frustrated with the child, and took a deep breath. ‘I’ll be telling your parents, then. You’ll be a very sorry little boy.’</p><p>‘No!’ shouted Warlock, spitefully.</p><p>‘And I’ll tell your Nanny!’</p><p>The child screamed at Brother Francis and kicked the wheelbarrow. </p><p>‘Warlock,’ said a stern but measured voice. </p><p>The child turned to see his Nanny had appeared, and Brother Francis felt tremendously relieved. </p><p>‘I got his stupid flowers,’ said Warlock.</p><p>Nanny Astoreth glided rather than walked towards the young boy. ‘What have I always told you?’ she asked him.</p><p>‘Not to touch the flowers.’</p><p>‘And why?’</p><p>‘Because they belong to Brother Francis. But you said flowers don’t always grow right and deserved to be picked and thrown at people.’</p><p>Brother Francis looked at Nanny Astoreth. She was still cool as a cucumber.</p><p>‘Warlock,’ she said. ‘I said <em> some </em> flowers, and I specifically said you’re not to touch <em> these </em> flowers. You’re to go to your room.’</p><p>‘No!’ The child stamped his foot. </p><p>Aziraphale was far too hot for this, and decided that Brother Francis would be be firmer. ‘You will do as you’re told, you naughty boy, or I’ll make you replant every single flower in the garden before you’re allowed to watch television or eat chocolate ever again.’</p><p>Warlock’s lower lip trembled, and Aziraphale was sure he’d got through to him finally. But the child simply kicked the wheelbarrow again.</p><p>‘Enough,’ said Nanny Astoreth, with such cold power that it made both Warlock and Brother Francis shiver. She carefully ushered the boy away from the wheelbarrow. ‘Warlock, <em> go </em> to your room.’</p><p>The boy looked like he was considering it. So Brother Francis, who really had lost patience, added, ‘If you don’t do as you’re told, we’ll tell your father you need a spanking.’</p><p>Warlock, who had never, ever been disciplined in such a way but had heard stories of such things, gave a sob and immediately ran back into the house and up to his room.</p><p>‘Ah,’ said Aziraphale, his voice slipping. ‘Just the ticket. Do you know, I was pretty close to giving him a little tap myself…’</p><p>Nanny Astoreth got closer, her displeasure coming off her in waves. Brother Francis backed away quickly. When she spoke, it was Crowley hissing through the nanny demeanour. ‘You don’t <em> dare </em> talk to him like that,’ he growled. ‘It’s not for you to tell him off and definitely not for you to threaten him.’ </p><p>‘He was being rather bad, Crowley.’</p><p>‘He’s a four year old boy with a demon for a Nanny! What do you expect?’</p><p>Aziraphale felt miserable. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s just… if I had done something like that, then I would have been…’</p><p>‘This isn't about you! And it isn’t about Heaven or Hell, angel. He will be disciplined, but no one tells him off, and no one punishes him. And no one, not ever, hits him. You shouldn’t do that to a human child.’</p><p>‘What about not sparing the rod?’</p><p>‘Good point,’ she said, taking Brother Francis by the elbow and leading him into the gardener's woodshed.</p><p>‘Oh dear,’ said Aziraphale, as he felt a miracle strip him out of character and into his Aziraphale clothes. </p><p>Nanny Astoreth closed the shed door behind them. Then she glowered at Aziraphale.</p><p>The angel shrank away. ‘I didn’t mean to get angry with him!’ he squeaked.</p><p>But she pulled him into an embrace. He hugged her back, as tightly as he could, despite the feeling he was in trouble. When she pulled back, it was to kiss him on the lips. </p><p>‘My little angel,’ she said between kisses. ‘Spankings are <em> only </em> for naughty angels.’</p><p>Their lips smacked between light moans. Seeing each other every day but not being together was driving them both up the wall. </p><p>‘And naughty demons?’ he asked. </p><p>‘Now and again, perhaps,’ she said. 'I know you're hot and bothered.' She kissed him firmly, and Aziraphale felt Crowley squeeze his hand. 'But keep your temper around my lad, or they'll get a new gardener.' She reached around to give Aziraphale a rather firm swat on his bottom. </p><p>He gasped, and pouted. It stung.</p><p>‘Behave yourself,’ she warned, before opening the shed door. She snapped her fingers, and all the flowers returned to the soil the right way up and full of life.</p><p>‘Oh thank you!’ said Aziraphale.</p><p>She turned to glare at him. ‘I have my hands full with this child, Aziraphale. If you misbehave as well, you will make Nanny very, very cross, and I will put you across my knee if you force my hand.’</p><p>The angel wiggled, his ears burning, his bottom smarting, and his trousers tightening. ‘Yes Nanny,’ he said.</p><p>Nanny Astoreth smirked and closed the shed door, leaving Aziraphale a little stunned. </p><p>She went straight up to Warlock’s bedroom. The child’s parents had been away for a whole week on business, and the little boy was simply one big bundle of confused nerves and distress. ‘There, there,’ she soothed him. ‘I know you didn’t mean to hurt the flowers, but you felt you needed to. It’s okay. We'll talk about it later, and we'll apologise to Brother Francis.’ The child cuddled up to her, and she rocked him until he fell asleep. Crowley thought to himself that perhaps angels also need to be rocked to sleep. And demons. But he chased that away, because they had a job to do. </p><p>Aziraphale went home that night to keep up his bookseller appearance and to get away from his overbearing persona. He wanted to de-stress from the heat of the day and forget the frustrating behaviour of the antichrist. He felt quite ashamed of himself. He had lost his temper - some of it anyway. Crowley had always been better with children than he was. </p><p>He made a cup of tea and reflected on his behaviour. He made some adjustments in the shop before it was time to close the shutters. And then he remembered the way Nanny Astoreth had spoken to him. He felt a very different and welcome kind of shame and warmth. She was strict and rather scary - and exactly every wet dream anyone had ever had about a Nanny (Aziraphale had had two by this point). But her tenderness - that was taking his breath away. He longed for it. He lived for it. He craved it. Even though she’d been cross and given him rather a hard smack, he wanted her. He wanted her to Nanny him and every way, including punishments. "Spankings are for little angels," she'd said.</p><p>He realised his breath was shallow and his trousers were tight again. He palmed himself for a moment, then accepted what he was going to do. He was trying not to do it as often, but he felt dizzy with desire. </p><p>He went up to his bedroom, pulled the curtains closed, turned off the lights, made sure his sound-proofing miracle was intact, took off his shoes and jacket, and arranged his pillows into a nice, firm shape for him to crawl on top of. He preferred to be a little dressed just in case anyone showed up out of nowhere, but also he really liked the act of rubbing off in his trousers simply because it felt so deliciously sneaky, and the friction was pleasing. He could already feel a damp spot in his white cotton boxer briefs, and that made him feel <em>sexy</em>. He adjusted his erection to get comfortable, then lay on his belly, and started humping the pillows with breathless urgency. </p><p>His pillows were in the shape of a person. He cuddled them. He nuzzled them. He French kissed one. He straddled another. He rubbed into it, knowing he was being naughty, and was going to further wet his underwear. Beads of precum leaked into his briefs, causing an even better friction. He started to moan loudly. He liked hearing it. He moved his hips quicker, grinding and grinding into the thick pillow, leaking a lot now. He looked down. The wet spot was now on the front of his trousers. He groaned, feeling his dick slide and rub so perfectly in his clothing, knowing he was about to do something filthy. He liked to murmur the words 'I'm going to come', not because there was anyone who needed to know, but because when he heard himself say it, he felt naughtier than ever, because he'd already relinquished himself to pure pleasure.</p><p>And when he came, creaming his briefs and trousers and pillow, he cried ‘Nanny’, rocking back and forth, making sure he got it all out before sighing contentedly and wiggling his hips.</p><p>He drifted off to sleep, imagining having his bottom smacked by Nanny Astoreth for being such a naughty little angel. Feeling safe, in her arms, on her terms...</p><p>He woke up just 20 minutes later. It had been a tiring day and he was enjoying cuddling his Nanny. He put his thumb in his mouth. He felt so peaceful, lying in her tender arms. He squirmed, starting to feel a little bit icky in his soggy pants. Maybe she could change him, or perform a Nanny miracle. He sucked on his thumb and cuddled up even closer to her. He thought about how else she could Nanny him. He could sit on her knee. She could put him to bed with a kiss on the forehead. She could wash him and swaddle him in a fluffy towel and tickle his tummy.</p><p>He grumbled into the pillows, not wanting to move but feeling an uncomfortable nag in his abdomen. And that’s when he had a very naughty idea. The temptation was overwhelming. Everything was pressing against his bladder. He knew better - why would he do such a thing? But he sucked and sucked his thumb because he was… he was very Little. He could feel Nanny stroking his hair, cradling his bottom. She was petting him. It wasn't his fault. He was too sleepy to help it. He relaxed all that he could, and started to wet himself.  </p><p>He immediately soaked his front with hot pee. He groaned deeply at the sensation, the rush and spread of heat, the relief pouring through his clothes and onto the pillow - onto Nanny. He was doing something very bad. It spread and spread, up around his belly, down his thighs, the sound of his illicit deed hissing and pattering onto the pillow and sheets only for him to hear. He murmured helplessly. He was wetting himself like a cherub. </p><p>The flow abated, and Aziraphale couldn’t remember a time where he’d been naughtier. He knew he’d made a terrible mess, wetting his bed because he couldn't resist the temptation. He lifted himself up just enough to peep underneath and see how bad it was. He gasped. It was very bad indeed. There was a puddle, just like when he was a cherub in Eden when he did similarly forbidden things. It was seeping into the pillow and sheets. If it were Nanny, he would have wet her skirt. He quickly lay back down on top of it. It still felt nice and warm, and he could still hide it. Oh, it was so wicked. He needed to be punished. She would spank him, surely. </p><p>That was when his brain utterly short-fused. It had all felt too good. He rolled his hips, feeling how wet he was and the warmth beneath. He moaned. It was all too intense. He was hard again, rubbing and humping desperately into the soaked pillow, clutching onto the bed sheets for leverage, and thinking of nothing other than how his Nanny would gently spank him and hold him over her knee, and how he’d rub off on her skirt before she could stop him because he was a naughty baby. He was wild now, seeking that glorious friction that comes with rubbing against wet, warm clothing. Electricity was buzzing through his body, and he cried out, his mind lost, his dick on fire, his pleasure the only thing there was, except for the face of a most displeased Nanny Astoreth.</p><p>He came with a shout, though nothing so coherent as a name or a word. He relished the feel of more creamy spurts spilling and spreading in his crotch as he rubbed his softening penis over the pillow. He was trembling and mewling, hips twitching and rolling, coming down with soft cries from one of the most intense orgasms he could remember. He lay there breathing heavily, in all his wet, wanting nothing more than for Nanny to come and sort him out. He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but soon enough, he was cold, uncomfortable, ashamed, and lonely. He sat up and looked at what he’d done. A part of him liked it. Another part of him berated himself cruelly. And in all of that, he just wanted Crowley to tell him what to do next. He miracled it all away, feeling guiltier than ever. He spent a few days cleaning and tidying the shop before it was time to go and tend to the Dowlings’ garden again. </p><p>The summer days rolled by, as did more years. When the Dowlings were preoccupied or out for the day with the antichrist, Brother Francis tried his level best to be flirty and cheeky to the Nanny, and she always took him to the shed and gave him a smack on the bottom as soon as she got the chance. </p><p>‘Stop it,' she would scold fiercely. 'We’ve got a job to do.’</p><p>‘Yes, Nanny,’ said Brother Francis. </p><p>But Nanny would always smile darkly and kiss him on the lips before she left him. Sometimes it would be a sex kiss. Sometimes they'd press against each other for a few minutes. But she always left the shed completely composed. Brother Francis would have to give himself a very quick hand job before going back to the begonias. </p><p>What Aziraphale didn’t know is that every time he was cheeky, even as Brother Francis, it drove Nanny Astoreth crazy. So she would go to Crowley’s apartment on her afternoons off, and barely make it inside before slipping her hand up to her wet knickers and touching herself. She took off her knickers, flung herself on the bed, tugged up her skirt, and just like her angel, stuffed a pillow between her legs and rocked back and forth on it. She massaged herself with skilful fingers. She liked the cowgirl position for herself. She imagined sitting on Brother Francis, who she knew had been masturbating away in the shed, and giving him a big orgasm as she clenched around him. She imagined doing the same to Aziraphale, who wouldn’t know what hit him, not when she was dressed like that. She had orgasm after orgasm, soaking the pillow in her juices, and imagining squeezing her naughty angel so he popped like a cork. </p><p> </p><p>Life got easier on that front when it was time to tutor Warlock rather than nanny him. Nanny Astoreth took a job oversees, and the gardener retired. The angel and the demon had gone several years without seeing each other socially, but as the boy approached his 10th birthday, Crowley and Aziraphale felt they could probably risk relaxing in the bookshop together. This led to a lot of sloppy kissing and urgent chaotic sex outside of working hours, which they both sorely needed. But Aziraphale missed the Nanny. The Nanny had been in charge, and known better, and noticed things. </p><p>'What is it?' asked Crowley late one night, watching his pensive angel who was sitting on the sofa wringing his hands. </p><p>'Oh it's... nothing.'</p><p>Crowley raised an eyebrow and sat down next to him. 'Don't lie to me,' he said, sounding a little hurt.</p><p>Aziraphale bit his lip guiltily. 'I'm sorry. But I don't think it makes any sense. I don't think you'll like it either.'</p><p>'Try me,' said Crowley. 'Coz if it's a sex thing, Aziraphale, I've seen it all.'</p><p>Aziraphale relaxed a bit on hearing that, though did take a moment to give Crowley a tired, if fond, look. 'It's...' he squirmed in his seat. 'I miss her.'</p><p>'Her?'</p><p>'Nanny Astoreth.'</p><p>'Oh! Yeah me too, a bit. One of my favourite outfits. And she liked...' he looked at Aziraphale, who was blushing. 'Oh I <em>see</em>,' said Crowley. You miss her taking you to the woodshed, don't you.'</p><p>The angel wiggled. His face felt hot. All he could do was look at Crowley and hope he understood somehow. </p><p>The demon held Aziraphale's hand. 'Oi,' he said. 'It's fine. Whatever it is. I'm sure you think it's some dark, sinful travesty, but wanting a nanny to manage you is very common, Aziraphale.'</p><p>'For humans,' said Aziraphale curtly. He was surprised when Crowley forced eye contact. </p><p>'For beings who crave love, angel,' he said sternly. 'None of us asked to be here. It's not shameful to crave something you've been denied. And it's brave to talk about it with your... partner. Your lover.'</p><p>He looked extremely proud of himself on the word lover. </p><p>Aziraphale smiled warmly. 'Thank you. That was kind.' </p><p>Crowley looked at him, waiting for more information. When it didn't come, he miracled himself into Nanny Astoreth.</p><p>'Oh!' cried Aziraphale, at the tweed-clad vision next him. 'Oh good lord.'</p><p>'Now,' said Nanny. 'Has my little angel got something he wants to tell me?'</p><p>Aziraphale shifted in his seat and tried not to panic. 'No?' he said.</p><p>Nanny smirked. 'Naughty. No fibs. Now, answer my questions.' She shuffled up closer to him and stroked his hair. Aziraphale thought he might faint. </p><p>'How old is my little angel?'</p><p>The angel glowed in spite of himself. 'I'm just a cherub, Nanny.'</p><p>'Aha,' she said. 'I've been looking for a new cherub for care for. Would you like that?'</p><p>Aziraphale nodded eagerly.</p><p>Crowley reappeared, still holding the angel's hand. 'Actually, we should probably agree this sort of thing out of character,' he said.</p><p>'Oh,' said Aziraphale. 'You mean, we could, play age together?'</p><p>Crowley kissed him on the forehead. 'It's called Ageplay, Aziraphale.'</p><p>'Yes, I ... read about it.'</p><p>'I bet you did,' said Crowley with a grin. 'So how about spending the occasional weekend with Nanny?'</p><p>The angel blushed and wiggled. 'Yes. I would like that.'</p><p>'There's a good angel.'</p><p>Aziraphale shivered, noting that he had a profound response to praise as much as a telling off. </p><p>'So we need to agree what this cherub is in need of.' Crowley kissed him on the cheek. ‘Do you want me to put you in nappies?’</p><p>‘No!’ said Aziraphale with a little bit too much indignation. ‘Of course not.’ Then all he couldn't think of was nappies, and how that might feel nice. </p><p>‘You’d look ever so cute,’ teased Crowley. ‘Little angel. Nappies and blankies. Diapers and pacifiers. Waddling about.’</p><p>‘Crowley, I’m not… I’m sure I want...’</p><p>‘Nothing ventured nothing gained,’ said the demon, as if they were discussing buying a trendy new vegetable. ‘And if a little angel were to wet himself or something...’</p><p>Aziraphale pursed his lips and looked very intently at the ring on his finger. Crowley continued. ‘Then there would be fewer puddles, wouldn’t there.’</p><p>‘I’m not that little,’ said the angel, whilst starting to feel very, very little. So little, his body felt too big for him to cope with. He wondered what would happen if he wet his pants there and then. He crossed his legs.</p><p>Crowley stroked the fluffy hair. ‘Angel, it’s all right. We’re not going to do anything you don’t like. And there’s nothing wrong with anything you do want to do.’</p><p>‘Well, I did wonder if... will you, um, put me down for a nap?’</p><p>‘A nap?’ asked Crowley, trying to keep humour out of his voice.</p><p>‘Yes. I always liked the sound of that. It sounded…. Soft.’</p><p>Crowley cleared his throat, because some feelings had got stuck in it. </p><p>‘And perhaps,’ added Aziraphale, wiggling his foot. ‘We could watch the movies together, while you, um… nurse me.’</p><p>Crowley gazed at him. He put his arms around his angel and gently tugged him to sit on his knee. ‘C’mere,’ he whispered, and Aziraphale came obediently. </p><p>‘You mean a nice, hot bottle of milk. Perhaps with some nutmeg?’</p><p>His angel nodded shyly.</p><p>Crowley’s chest throbbed with something he <em> refused </em> to call love. He’d seen Aziraphale make himself hot milk with a dash of nutmeg numerous times late in the evening. And ‘the movies’ were the Marx brothers movies. Aziraphale loved them and would watch them all in one sitting, usually a couple of times a year. The idea of this warm angel being snuggled up and given a bottle of hot milk while watching his favourite films was making the demon feel all swirly.</p><p>‘Well,’ said Crowley. ‘I’m sure if you’re a good angel, we can do that as often as you’d like.’</p><p>‘Oh,’ said the angel, with a smile. Then a frown chased it all away. ‘But, what if…’ he wiggled. </p><p>‘What happens if?’ Crowley prompted tenderly.</p><p>‘If I’m a <em>bad</em> angel. If I’m naughty,’ said Aziraphale, as bravely as he could.</p><p>Crowley smirked. ‘I’ll smack your bottom,’ he said. Aziraphale blushed as Crowley continued. ‘Though I might also decide you need to be sent to your room, or made to stand in the corner, or sat on the naughty step. Or disallowed certain things you like. I might also remind you that there are rewards for being a good angel.’</p><p>Aziraphale’s eyes were twinkling, though he still seemed particularly meek to Crowley. The demon scrutinised his angel. 'And angel,' he said. 'If for any reason there were puddles, or accidents, or if my little angel wet the bed, it would be okay. I wouldn't be upset.'</p><p>The angel beamed. He cuddled up to Crowley and kissed the demon's neck. 'Thank you,' he said.</p><p>'It's not like I won't get anything out of it,' said Crowley with a shrug. 'You've always been the cutest cherub. Naughty and horny, but cute.'</p><p>The angel went quite red in the face. </p><p>'Oh what is it?' asked Crowley, noticing.</p><p>'Well, what if, even though I'm just a cherub, I find I really like cuddling my Nanny, and I get...' He nodded in the direction of his crotch, which was sporting a bulge. </p><p>Crowley sniggered sweetly, and kissed the poor, conflicted angel. 'If my little angel finds himself feeling ever so nice and warm when spending time with Nanny, it's perfectly natural that even a cherub might have some needs.' His hand slipped between the angel's legs and he cupped the bulge.</p><p>Aziraphale was feeling tingly all over. 'I...' he began. Then he whispered some specfics into Crowley's ear.</p><p>When Crowley had heard every word, his own eyes were cloudy and his lips were parted. His jeans were tented in the crotch. He looked into his angel's eyes. 'My cherub,' said Crowley. 'All of that is completely fine.'</p><p>The angel let out a breath, and they kissed passionately, until Crowley rolled Aziraphale onto his back on the sofa, took him in his arms, and started to make love to him. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They spent a lot of time co-creating the perfect scenes and parameters to explore on their weekends. Aziraphale found a size he wanted to be - just a little bit smaller, by a foot or so, so Nanny could maneuver him if necessary. He was still the same shape, though. She smiled. “Pint-sized little angel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The angel chose his outfit. He miracled the softest corduroy dungarees in a cream colour, with a silver sweater underneath. He was a cuddly bundle. The buckles on the straps were gold. Underneath, he was wearing a pair of cotton underpants that felt nice and snug. He lazed about the bookshop, got given yummy treats, fell asleep on Nanny for 72 hours in a row, enjoyed bubble baths, played with a train set (Crowley might have enjoyed it even more), set alight a match to see if Nanny was smack him for doing it (she did) and got put down for a nap all the time. He loved it. He called for Nanny to come back in, pick him up, take him outside the room, just so she could put him down for a nap all over again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, he wet the bed during nap time. He was duly comforted and the bedding was miraculously refreshed. The angel started to feel more and more that he was safe and loved, even by a very stern Nanny. He became a little more courageous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nanny noticed he was rocking back and forth while sitting on his heels on the carpet while reading a book. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Do you need a wee wee?' she asked rhetorically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>‘No, Nanny,’ he lied, holding and squeezing himself very obviously.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She put her hands on her hips, knowing he was lying. But Aziraphale was sure he'd fooled her. He looked right at her and </span>
  <span>started to wet himself. He felt the front of his soft dungarees soak hot, and the wet spread around his thighs. It felt naughty. It felt sneaky. And Nanny wouldn't know because it was happening underneath his book. But when looked down, and with horror saw he was wet all the way up to his tummy. Nanny would see, and she'd smack his bottom for lying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Oh you <em>naughty</em> thing,' she scolded. 'Come here.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her little angel pouted and sobbed as he stood. There was a small puddle on the carpet. He waddled up to her, trying to cover the wet stain on his front with his hand. It was futile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She l</span>
  <span>ifted him over her knee. </span>
  <span>Her lap felt warm against his wet clothes and he wiggled as she held him close. 'Sneakily wetting your pants and lying to me. You know I’ll spank you if you do that.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Her hand came down in a firm swat on his wet trouser seat and the angel squeaked. The next smack came quickly, followed by a dozen. But they all pushed the cherub against the rough, tweed skirt, and made him feel ever so delicious. She stopped spanking him and settled for holding him gently while he rocked his hips breathlessly, desperate for purchase. He’d wet himself. He was all warm and naughty and everything felt so good just where it mattered, and he’d had his bottom smacked because Nanny loved him, and she was letting him do what he needed to do, and…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rutted rapidly before a little squeal and a few gasps signalled he’d finally found relief. He slowed, catching his breath, feeling another hot flood spread in his private place as he rubbed against his Nanny’s skirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Tut tut tut,' she uttered sweetly. Nanny </span>
  <span>miracled him clean and cosy, and fed him hot milk, and they fell asleep lying on the sofa, in each other's arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nanny was relaxed cuddling her little cherub. All the woes of the world were far away on a weekend like this. She watched him sleep, knowing it wouldn't be long before he needed a feed, or a change of clothes, or a ticking off. Deep down, Crowley felt he was floating, in charge of this little angel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Aziraphale had been snoozing for a while, and he needed to have a wee, but he was also more comfortable than ever. He squeezed the tip of his penis through the corduroy, then </span>
  <span>snuggled up to his nanny, resting his head on her bosom and putting his thumb in his mouth. He wasn't sure where he mind was, but he suddenly realised he was wet. </span>
  <span>Still sucking his thumb, he looked up at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>'It’s all right,' she said. 'Just a little accident.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She miracled him dry with a kiss on the head, </span>
  <span>holding him to her, and patted his little bottom. All of a sudden, it felt padded, and there was a rustle and a crinkle. She had <em>diapered</em> him. He wiggled his bottom with a squeak, but it did feel soft and nice, and he was being petted again. He was a very content little angel, so he went back into a wonderful snooze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He woke up having a wee. Nanny thought she might have felt some warmth or heard a hiss, and the little cherub knew she might know what he was doing. But it felt nice. It felt blissfully warm, and he knew it was safe. </span>
  <span>He sighed happily as he stopped, and she held him tight and kissed him on the head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Good angel,' she whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He snuggled her as he felt all cosy, and wriggled around a little, as if his hips were trying to find home. </span>
  <span>He murmured, then lightly pressed himself against her hip. The nappy felt thick and soft and warm. He needed to rub now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Oh my little angel,' cooed Nanny. 'Again, mmm?'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He keened, still sucking his thumb, and his movements became more deliberate. His breath quickened. </span>
</p><p><span>Nanny stroked his hair. </span>'Are you being my naughty little cherub,' she whispered tenderly. She patted his diapered bottom.</p><p>Aziraphale smiled sweetly at her. He moaned around his thumb and clung onto her, his nappy crinkling as he rubbed into it over and over. He gave a soft cry that broke her heart. Then her angel<span> tensed with a little squawk, then stilled, catching his breath. He squirmed, giving his thumb a light suck, murmuring contentedly. </span></p><p>
  <span>Nanny patted his bottom. “That’s better, isn’t it,” she said. And she looked down at him. The baby blue eyes gazed up at her. She’d never seen a being at more peace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>'My insatiable cherub. You need a bath.'</span>
</p><p>
  <span>'Yes, Nanny,' he mumbled. </span>
</p><p> </p>
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